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REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 
By HELEN S. W O O D R U F F 


By HELEN S. WOODRUFF 

THE LITTLE HOUSE 

12mO. net 11.00 

MIS’ BEAUTY 

ILLUSTRATED. 12M0. NET |1.00 

THE LADY OF THE LIGHTHOUSE 

ILLUSTRATED. SMALL QUARTO. NETT JO.50 

REALLY TRULY NATURE STORIES 

ILLUSTRATED. SMALL QUARTO. NET |1.00 

REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 

ILLUSTRATED. SMALL QUARTO. NET |1.00 

GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
NEW YORK 







PYXIE, THE WOOD-FAIRY-GIRL 







REALLY TEULY 

FAIBY5TOBIE5 

HELEN • S'VOODPUEF 



WITH DECORATIONS -BY 
GR16EEDA*M*M<^CEUEE 


NEW‘YOEK 

GEOBGEH -DOBANCOMPANY 


Copyright, 1915, 

By George H. Doran Company 


« « 



fci 14 I9I5 

©CI.A41 1 952 


With Admiration 
This Little Book is Dedicated to 
Julia May Leary 

Whose Understanding Love of Children 
Makes Her Realise the Latent Beauty in Their 
Powers of Imagination 







CHAPTER page 


I. 

Pyxie’s Christening .... 


11 . 

The Flower-Fairies’ Marriage . 

• 23 

III. 

The Star-Fairies 

• 33 

IV. 

Fairy Prisoners ...... 

• 43 

V. 

The Rainbow-Fairies .... 

• 57 

VI. 

The Fairies’ Birth Gifts . . 

. 69 

VII. 

Where Dreams Come From . . 

. 81 

VIII. 

The Storm-Fairies" Battle . . 

. 91 


IX. The Coming of the Winter-Fairies 103 












CHAPTER ONE 

Pyxie’s Christening 















ITTLE PYXIE is the Really 
Truly Fairies’ God-child, and 
lives in a big, old-fashioned 
farmhouse surrounded by a 
stiff, up-standing Sentinel 
Grove. The fairies of woods 
and streams and fields are her 
playmates, and have told her 
all their fairy secrets: why the Laughing Brook that 
tumbles over the stones just back of her garden is 
always happy; why the little perfumed flowers that 
grow along its banks bend down to gaze at them- 
selves in the mirror-like water; why the trees con- 
tinually whisper together, and the tall reeds and 
grasses bow to and fro all day. 

The world is a beautiful place to live in if you 



II 


12 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


believe in fairies, and Pyxie, who does believe with 
her whole heart and soul, is wonderfully happy now 
as she dances about among them; for they have 
christened her “Pyxie, the Wood-Fairy Girl,” and 
she understands everything she hears them talking 
about in the Really Truly World of Fairies. 
Wouldn’t you like to be told about her christening? 

She used to be just an ordinary everyday little girl 
named Sylvia. But now it’s all different; and this is 
how it happened: 

One hot day when the whole wide world seemed 
cross and tired, Sylvia stole away through the Sen- 
tinel Grove to the edge of the Laughing Brook. 
Nothing had gone right! Willie and Tommy, with 
whom she generally played, had told her they 
weren’t going to play “girl’s play” any more, and so, 
hurt and forlorn, she wandered away from them, 
wondering what she should do. 

“Everybody’s cross today and I hate the whole 
world!” she pouted, and, throwing herself down on 
the bank of the brook, she continued to grumble and 
scowl. 

At her scowls and ugly words old Mr. Sun, who 
had been smiling over a tall tree, was so shocked and 
grieved that he hid behind a nearby cloud, while the 
birds, who had been singing gaily to welcome her to 
their woodland glade, ceased, and over everything 
there descended a sudden curious stillness. 

“Why, what’s the matter, I wonder,” she ex- 
claimed in alarm, noticing the sudden change. “It 


PYXIE’S CHRISTENING 


13 


sounds like God said ‘Hush ! I don’t like it!’ ” and she 
jumped to her feet. 

Directly in front of where she had been sitting the 
gay little brook ran over its bed of smooth stones; 
and now as she stepped down closer to it, watching 
and listening, she could hear the gentle laughter of 
its waters in the general silence of the surrounding 
woods. 

“I wonder why it’s so merry and everything else is 
all so still,” she said, more and more troubled at the 
ominous silence. “I wonder ” 

But as she spoke her attention was attracted to a 
big rock over which the water fell in a sparkling 
cataract, and as she looked she saw thousands of little 
white fairies spring up from about it and begin a 
mad dance towards her. Whirling and swirling, 
on thev came, their laughing faces alight with 
fun. 

“Oh,” she cried, at once interested in the pretty 
sight, and, wading out into the brook, leaned forward 
and was about to touch them when, Swish! Whirl! 
away they went, leaving only dew-drops, like tears, 
on the rock where they had been. 

She caught her breath and, leaning still farther 
forward in her eagerness, tried to see where they had 
gone — when suddenly, without any warning what- 
ever, they returned and danced below her, their 
sparkling eyes laughing up into hers again. 

“Oh,” she said, “who are you? And why are you 
so happy?” and she looked nervously about her once 


H 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


more. “I was just beginning to get scared at all this 
saddy stillness.” 

As she asked the question one of the fairies danced 
closer to her than the rest, and spoke in a gentle 
voice : 

“I’ll tell you why we are so happy ” but before 

she could finish her sentence all the others came 
dancing forward, too, and catching hold of her 
laughingly pulled her out of sight, leaving Sylvia 
puzzled and annoyed. 

“Oh, how silly!” Sylvia scolded. “Why did they 
go away!” and a frown like that which had shocked 
the sun clouded her brow — when Swish! Whirl! all 
the little fairies returned and laughed up into her 
face again. 

“We are the Water Sprites,” they cried, “and are 
happy because we help to make this beautiful world 
more beautiful. That’s what all life is for!” and 
joining hands in the merriest sort of dance they sud- 
denly disappeared once more. 

“Now there they go!” Sylvia cried in annoyance. 
“I wonder where they go when they ” But be- 

fore she could finish, up they came, dancing and 
smiling merrily. 

“Why do you go away so much? Tell me, tell 
me!” she begged; but utterly disregarding her ques- 
tion down they went again, frolicking beneath the 
surface for a moment, then coming up and dancing 
more madly than ever! 

“I don’t believe you do anything but run away!” 


PYXIE’S CHRISTENING 


5 


Sylvia pouted. “How do you help make the world 

beautiful ” and again they were gone before she 

had ceased speaking. 

Then coming up, they danced and curtsied mock- 
ingly. 

“You shall answer my questions!” she cried 
angrily. “I just won’t be treated this way! How do 
you make the world beautiful? Answer, answer, 
before you go again!” 

But only laughing at her they disappeared, ap- 
peared, disappeared again and again, dancing, dan- 
cing, ever dancing! 

Then their Queen spoke: “Don’t you think our 
dance is beautiful? We do!” and, surrounded by all 
the others, she came nearer to Sylvia as she stood 
watching them crossly. 

Around and around her ankles they danced, swirl- 
ing and whirling and eddying and flinging their lacy 
draperies in silvery confusion about their slim white 
bodies. 

“Oh, yes, you dance very well,” Sylvia agreed, 
“but ” 

“We do lots of other things, too,” the Queen an- 
swered. “Sing her your work-song. Mates!” turn- 
ing to the others, who, obeying her command, began 
to sing: 

^Whirl, Whirl, Whirl; 

Swirl, Swirl, Swirl; 

W eWe the little Water Sprites, 

Working all the days and nights. 


i6 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Swirl, Swirl, Swirl; 

Whirl, Whirl, Whirl 

But just then, right in the middle of their song, out 
of sight they dove! 

“Well, I wonder how they work, and why?” Syl- 
via said thoughtfully, forgetting to frown this time, 
and eagerly watching for their return. 

^'We guard the fish and tad-poles. 

And all the water folks 
That live in shady, quiet holes 
Beneath the spreading oaks. 

We feed the sea and rivers. 

We furnish motive power. 

We turn around the mill-wheel 

That grinds you out your flour 

But down they had gone again, and Sylvia could hear 
only very, very faintly their voices as they sang the 
chorus: 

^Whirl, Whirl, Whirl; 

All our lives we*ve whirled! 

Swirl, Swirl, Swirl; 

The happiest Sprites in the world!^' 

Then up they came and once more began their laugh- 
ing frolic about the rock. 


PYXIE’S CHRISTENING 


17 


“Oh you are beautiful!” Sylvia cried in glee, com- 
pletely forgetting her crossness by now. “That’s 
how you make the world more beautiful, isn’t it? 
But then, if you’re so happy, why is everything else 
so Mwhappy?” suddenly remembering the dreadful 
stillness of the woods. 

Without answering, save with a whirl, the Queen 
danced right up to her, and at this Sylvia just couldn’t 
help laughing right out! 

“Oh, you funny little dancy, prancy Queen!” she 
cried gleefully, and at the sound of her laughter a 
burst of joyous sounds rang forth, coming as sud- 
denly as the stillness had come over everything be- 
fore. The fairy voices all through the woods, and 
even from the fields beyond, broke into a regular 
chorus of echoing gladness! Old Mr. Sun popped 
out from behind his cloud and beamed at- her; and 
everywhere she heard the happy little laugh that she 
herself had started echo and re-echo in a thousand 
silvan tones. 

“Ah, that unhappiness was your fault. Don’t you 
see?” the dancing Queen explained. “It’s really too 
bad,” smiling at Sylvia’s wide-eyed wonder, “but 
when a little child scowls and says she ‘hates every- 
thing,’ it makes the whole world sad. Then, as you 
saw, all the fairies go off and hide! But when a 
little child is glad, and laughs and dances as we 
Water Sprites do, then everything else is glad too, 
and all the Really Truly Fairies come back and 
laugh with her.” 


i8 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“All the fairies have come back now,” Sylvia said, 
looking about her earnestly. “Don’t you hear their 
voices?” 

“Yes,” the Spray Queen answered, “they came 
when you laughed and brought the sunshine back! 
You can always do that. It’s a God-given gift that 
all little children have!” And with this bit of in- 
formation the Queen with all her train danced mer- 
rily out of sight, splashing and diving beneath the 
surface to reappear in a moment, as always. Now 
coming up they all began to sing: 

'Whirl, Whirl, Whirl; 

Swirl, Swirl, Swirl; 

We're the little Water Sprites, 

Dancing all the days and nights. 

Laugh and dance, too. Little Girl, 

Come and join our merry whirl! 

We're the happiest mites in the world. 

Swirl, Swirl, Swirl!" 


Sylvia laughed again and, wading nearer the rock 
and on into their very midst, begged breathlessly: 

“Oh, tell me morel Tell me more, you dancy, 
prancy things!” 

At these words the Queen separated herself from 
the rest, and pausing a moment at Sylvia’s feet, said: 
“This lesson you must learn. Laugh and dance, it 
matters not how hard your tasks may be ; for that is 


PYXIE’S CHRISTENING 


19 


the secret of true happiness” — and down out of sight 
she went I 

“Oh, I wish I was a fairy,” Sylvia said, watching 
wistfully for the Queen’s return; “a really truly fairy 
girir 

“Do you?” the little Queen said, returning as Syl- 
via knew she would and dancing merrily about her 
dimpled ankles; “do you?” 

“Do you? Do you?” all the other little Water 
Sprites echoed, jumping up and dancing, too. 

“Yes, I do,” Sylvia answered eagerly. Then 
laughing and stooping down until her flushed face 
was very near their own, she asked : “Isn’t there any 
way you could turn me into one?” 

“Indeed there is!” the Queen agreed; “bend still 
nearer me!” And then Sylvia saw the whole dancing 
train gather together and, forming a bright, foamy 
froth, come dashing over the rock and cover her yel- 
low curls with their sun-kissed, rainbow-tinted spray! 

*‘With the touch of our spray 
On the top of your curl 
We christen you Pyxie, 

The Wood-Fairy-Girl f 
Swirl, Swirl; Whirl, Whirl; 

Pyxie, the Wood-Fairy-GirlT^ 


and then they were gone out of sight again! 

Since that time Pyxie has been the Fairies’ God- 


20 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


child, and is continually learning more and more 
about their really truly secrets. Would you like to 
share with Pyxie some of the secrets that they told 
her? 


CHAPTER TWO 

The Flower-Fairies’ Marriag 



mM a 





YXIE’S friends, Willie and 
Tommy, were down at the 
swimming hole diving and 
plunging, splashing up the 
cool water and shouting with 
glee. She could hear their 
far-off laughter, for the frolic- 
some little Breezes caught up 
their voices and wafted them across the intervening 
fields to her listening ears. 

For a moment she stood sadly, envious and rather 
forlorn ; and then suddenly remembering her experi- 
ence of the day before she laughed, too, and began to 
wade out into the Laughing Brook and on towards 
the big rock where the Spray-Fairies lived. 

“Oh, little dancy Sprites,” she called, looking 
23 




24 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


down at the sparkling water, “come up and play 
with me!” And with that up they all came and 
started their merry swirling whirl about her feet. 

“I’m never going to be lonely any more now,” she 
confided to them, “even if the boys won’t play with 
me, for I’ve got you!” So holding her skirts high, 
she laughed and waded down the stream between its 
grass and flower-bordered banks. 

As she reached a curve in the winding brook she 
came to a spot where two lovely little lilies leaned 
far out over its banks and gazed in rapt admiration 
at their own reflections in the mirror-like water be- 
low them. 

“Why, you vain little things!” she cried, “aren’t 
you ashamed to admire your own prettiness so much !” 
and reaching her hand out shp was about to pluck 
them both, when suddenly a great big old Bumble 
Bee buzzed from the nearest one and, unsheathing 
the sword that he always carries, plunged it swiftly 
into her hand, angrily bumbling: 

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare!” 

“Oh,” she exclaimed, jumping back with pain and 
surprise, “you hateful old thing!” and quick tears 
sprang to her eyes as she dipped her wounded hand 
into the cooling water. 

At the sight of her tears the Bumble Bee ceased 
his furious bumble, and gazing at her sadly said in a 
deep, kind buzz: 

“I’m sorry to have hurt you. Little Maid; but you 
mustn’t destroy the palace of the Princess, you know. 


THE FLOWER-FAIRIES’ MARRIAGE 


25 


I am her guardian and must guard her regardless of 
everything!” 

“The palace of the Princess?” Sylvia repeated 
questioningly, at once forgetting her smarting hand. 
“Where?” 

“Why here,” he replied, flying back to the flower 
from which he had come and hovering above it with 
an air of protection. 

“Oh,” Pyxie gasped, taken completely by surprise. 
“I didn’t know a Princess could live in a lily! Tell 
me all about it!” and leaning forward eagerly she 
peered down into the cup of the little flower. There, 
in its very centre stood a tiny fairy crowned with 
gold. 

“Why there is a Princess, sure enough,” she de- 
clared. 

“Yes,” the Bumble Bee agreed, “there’s a fairy 
Princess in almost every wild flower, attended 
by a band of brother princes. That’s why you 
shouldn’t pick them, for each time you do you de- 
stroy a fairy palace and the love affair of a Prince and 
Princess ; and then they can’t get married and have 
little baby flowers as they were intended to do. It’s 
much better to leave them growing in the woods ” 

“Oh, do flowers get married?” Sylvia interrupted, 
standing still and watching the two lilies in spite of 
the Water Sprites’ murmured pleadings to go on 
down the stream. And then before the old Bumble 
Bee had time to answer, she continued: 

“But the Princess couldn’t marry her own broth- 


26 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


ersl Could she? People never do that. And how 
is another flower’s Prince going to get near enough 
to make love to her, anyway?” 

“Ah, that is where I help!” the Bumble Bee bum- 
bled. “Do you see this other lily palace?” and he 
alighted upon the edge of a twin blossom that Pyxie 
had also noticed admiring its reflection. 

“Yes, yes,” she said, nodding until her curls 
bobbed and curtsied mischievously. 

“Well, one of the Princes in there wants to marry 
her very much.” 

“Oh, docs he?” she asked. “Let’s see him — now 
don’t bumble so hard! I’m not going to hurt him!” 
and she drew the flower gently towards her, gazing 
down into its palace centre while the guardian bee 
hummed and buzzed uneasily about her. 

“Look here, old Mr. Funny Bumbler,” she 
laughed up at him, letting go of the flower, “don’t 
you know who I am? I’m Pyxie, the Wood-Fairy- 
Girl, and I wouldn’t hurt any of you little Wood- 
folks for anything!” 

“Oh,” he said in a very changed bumble, alighting 
again upon the other flower and smiling up at her. 
“Why didn’t you tell me that before? So you are 
our new God-child; well, well! and he looked her 
over with interest. 

“I was told about you at the ball last night.” 

“Were you?” Pyxie asked, forgetting to watch the 
lilies in her interest at such news. 

The Bumble Bee bowed his pompous head 


THE FLOWER-FAIRIES’ MARRIAGE 


27 


grandly. “Yes,” he said. “And it seems to me you’re 
rather a decent sort to be a child. Well, I won’t be 
angry with you any more, and I’m really quite glad to 
meet you!” he condescended further. “I’m Father 
Bumble, King of the Bees, you know,” and he gave 
her a solemn, dignified bow. 

“And I’m glad to meet you. Your Majesty,” Syl- 
via said, dropping him a curtsy and laughing. “But 
tell me about the Flower-fairies. You say this Prin- 
cess,” pointing to the lily’s golden room where six 
Princes were grouped around their sister, “is in love 
with that other Prince? I think that’s awfully ex- 
citing! Please tell me everything you know about 
them — the vain little things!” for they continued to 
gaze, spellbound, into the blue water-mirror below 
them. 

“But it isn’t vanity that makes them look into the 
water,” the Bumble Bee bumbled. “You entirely 
misunderstand. They are looking at each other, for 
you see they are prisoners in their Flower-palaces 
and ” 

“Prisoners?” Sylvia interrupted, “the poor little 
things ! Why are they prisoners, and who made them 
so, anyhow?” 

“Ah, that’s another story,” the Bumble Bee 
buzzed. “Some gossiping fairy will tell you about it 
in all good time, I doubt not; but now you want to 
hear of the Prince and Princess, don’t you?” 

“Oh, yes, yes,” Pyxie agreed eagerly. “Go on.” 

“Well, as I was saying when you interrupted me. 


28 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


they are prisoners, and so the Prince cannot go to his 
Lady-love to pay his homage as he would like to 
do 

“Then how do you know he’s in love with her?” 
she asked. 

The old bee frowned slightly at the interruption, 
but pleased, after all, at her eagerness to hear his 
story, proceeded to say: “Because they have both 
told me that they love each other. I am their Priest 
and most trusted messenger — I marry many of the 
flowers, you know — and ever since the first day that 
the Prince espied the Princess’s beautiful face re- 
flected over her prison walls down into the blue of 
the water he has been sending her his loving, per- 
fumed kisses.” 

“How pretty,” Sylvia murmured, looking ear- 
nestly at the little flower-lovers. “Go on!” 

“These kisses the gay little Breezes have been car- 
rying back and forth, while I have been continually 

the bearer of loving messages But here come the 

Breeze-fairies now!” he interrupted himself to ex- 
claim as a dainty host of laughing fairies came troop- 
ing merrily through the reeds and rushes at Sylvia’s 
feet. 

On they came, exquisite in their zephyr grace, 
playing on their Pipes O’ Pan. 

“Oh, are you coming to help the flower-lovers 
make love?” Pyxie asked, watching them excitedly. 

“No, Little Maid,” one of them answered, and de- 
taching himself from the rest he danced up and 


THE FLOWER-FAIRIES’ MARRIAGE 


29 


kissed her hair. “We are here to play the wedding 
march this time, for this is the marriage day of 
Prince and Princess Lily. Hark!” 

As he spoke a sweet sound of music broke out 
afresh, and all the reeds and grasses bowed their 
heads in time, as playing, playing, ever more sweetly, 
the Breeze-fairies danced about the bridal flowers. 

Old Father Bumble chuckled with delight, and 
giving Pyxie a sly understanding wink, buzzed away 
to the nearby flower-palace of the lily Prince. With 
a respectful bowing of his proud head he entered 
its golden portals and disappeared from sight. 

“Why, what’s he doing now, I wonder?” Pyxie 
said to herself, once more taking hold of the lily 
stem and looking curiously down at the little Prince 
seated among his royal brothers. 

The Breeze-fairies played more and more softly, 
hovering near, and as she watched the bride-groom 
Prince she saw him give the Bumble Bee Priest a 
tiny ball of golden pollen. Back then he crawled to 
the edge of a petal and, bumbling, spread his wings 
for flight. 

The Prince smiled down at the Princess’s flower- 
face reflected in the water so near his own, and in a 
voice as sweet as his perfumed breath, murmured: 
“With this token of my love, dear flower-heart, I do 
thee wed!” 

Across then to the waiting Flower-Princess 
Father Bumble joyfully flew, and with buzzing 
words of blessing placed the marriage token in her 


30 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


outstretched lily hands. With a happy smile she, the 
lovely little royal bride, gathered it to her heart, 
and Pyxie realised that she had seen the fairy-mar- 
riage of two beautiful flowers. 

“Oh, how pretty and happy they are!” she ex- 
claimed, laughing and looking up at the priest who 
was again bumbling about with an air of pompous 
importance. “Did you ever marry two Flower-fair- 
ies before?” 

“Did I?” he buzzed, wagging his head in self-sat- 
isfied pride. “Well, I should say I had! I help the 
Breezes marry all the really truly Wood-fairies just 
this way; — those that live in flowers and trees, and 
in fact in all God’s growing plants ; for you see if it 
wasn’t for such fairy-marriages there wouldn’t be 
any really truly baby fairies at all!” 

“Then you and the dear little Breezes are awfully 
necessary — aren’t you?” Pyxie said, “for you help 
make our Summer world!” 

“Of course we do! Of course we do! You’ve 
learned another fairy secret that all children should 
know. Little Maid,” the Breezes whispered. Then 
dancing all about her, they kissed her once more and 
fled. 

Old Father Bumble, without answering, joined 
them and, waving her an adieu, they all went away to 
attend to their priestly duties among the other flower 
and tree lovers that were awaiting them. 


CHAPTER THREE 

The Star-Fairies 









' YLVIA sat at her window watch- 
ing through the parted cur- 
tains as the Tree-fairies in the 
Sentinel Grove whispered 
their fairy secrets to one an- 
other. Back and forth, back 
and forth they swayed, gently 
curtsying, now meeting and 
kissing, now parting and waving adieu. It was all 
lovely, she thought, and as she sat dreaming of the 
happy days which had passed since she became the 
fairies’ God-child, she decided she would sit right 
where she was all the rest of the drowsy afternoon 
and just do nothing but watch these little fairies at 
their play and perhaps guess what it was that they 
were telling each other. 

Just about that time, however, the restless little 

33 


34 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Breezes guessed her laziness, and flying in at the 
window began to scold. 

“What, this lovely afternoon! And here you sit 
indoors! Come, come. Lazy One, and play truant 
with us in the woods !” 

“But it’s so nice and comfy here,” Sylvia ar- 
gued. 

Without answering they flew from the window and 
beckoned, beckoned, to her from the Sentinel Grove, 
occasionally stopping a moment to play with the 
Tree-fairies, then beckoning to her once more; until 
unable to resist their cooling summons, she jumped 
up and ran out beneath the shady trees. 

“Come, come,” they called, starting away as soon 
as she reached them. So picking up from the grass 
her big blue bonnet, as blue as the skies, she laughed 
and ran after them. 

On and on they lured her. Coming up from be- 
hind they would whisper persuasively, then hurry 
on ahead, and hardly realising it she followed them 
through many woods and fields, and on, forever on, 
far, far from home. It was great fun, and she felt 
so free and happy she was glad she had not stayed 
in her room. 

After a while, however, when she had gone a long, 
long way, farther away than she had ever been be- 
fore, she discovered that she was awfully tired. 

“Oh, little floaty Breeze-fairies,” she cried, as they 
continued to beckon and call, “teach me how to fly, 
for my feet are very tired!” 


THE STAR-FAIRIES 


35 


But unheeding, fickle as always, the truant Breezes 
flew on, laughing and mocking her because she could 
not follow as fast as they led. 

“Well, I don’t care,” Pyxie said, dropping down 
into the shade of a lonely maple, “I’m sleepy any- 
way!” and curling up on the soft moss at its feet she 
settled herself for a nap. 

Old Mr. Western Sun watched her there for a 
while, and then, as her eyelids began to close, he, too, 
felt sleepy and slipped away to his bed behind the 
hills; the nesting Mother-birds began their lull- 
ing, good-night songs; and over everything there de- 
scended a misty twilight quiet; and Pyxie slept. 

growin^ dark! 

^^Growin^ dark! 

^^Growin^ dark!** 

a big old bull-frog warned her from a nearby pool; 
but she heard only the little Dream-fairies, who, 
dancing about her head, whispered: 

“Sleep, Sylvia, sleep.” 

Then the little Breezes, ashamed of their deser- 
tion, returned and frolicked through her loosened 
curls. Old Judge Owl, popping from his hole in 
the tree just above her head, looked down at her in 
surprise. 

'Who*re your 
''Who* re you!* 

he hooted hoarsely; but she did not stir. 


36 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Slowly and stealthily the Night-fairies flew across 
the sky, trailing their shadows after them, and the 
Stars, awakened by their big brother Moon, jumped 
from their day-time beds and blinked sleepily at the 
nodding Earth below. 

^^JVhoWe you? 

'WhoWe you?” 

old Judge Owl called again, more shrilly this time, 

and Pyxie, stirring, murmured: “I’m Sylvia ” 

and then, at last aroused, she jumped up and looked 
about with sudden terror. 

“Oh,” she gasped; “oh, it’s night-time and I’m 
way away from home!” and with that Mr. Frog 
croaked again in his throatiest croak: 

"^You’re lost! 

^‘YouWe lost! 

^'You’re lost!” 

“No, I’m not lost!” Pyxie said angrily, swallowing 
hard to keep the tears back; for she didn’t want the 
frog to see how frightened she really was. “You’re 
always croaking! I came out here with the Breeze- 
fairies and they’ll show me the way back home!” 

But as she looked around her not one single Breeze- 
fairy did she see, for they had all sailed away to the 
Land of Sleep on a big cloud, soft and fluffy. 

“5m/ ifs dark! 

*^Ifs dark! 

^'Ifs dark!” 


THE STAR-FAIRIES 


37 


the croaky old bull-frog bellowed, his hollow voice 
echoing through the dusk like a big bass drum. 

“Well, even if it is dark I can find my way home 
by myself,” she answered. So picking up her bonnet 
she began to run bravely through the woods, though 
her heart was thumping so hard she forgot to listen 
to the friendly voices of all the little Wood-fairies. 
They, neglected and knowing they had been forgot- 
ten by their Fairy-girl, hid their eyes and mourned. 

Then, for the first time, Pyxie looked up. The 
Night-fairies had spread their shadow-mantles clear 
over the sky, and it was no longer blue. The stars, 
wide awake now, winked and blinked at her, and the 
moon, rising above the tall, tall trees, made them 
point shadow-fingers towards the West, and whis- 
pered : “That’s the way back home. Little Maid.” 

She ran on, thanking the kind old trees as she 
passed, and soon found she was crossing the fields 
and going through the strips of woodland where the 
Breeze-fairies had lured her not many hours before. 
It all looked very friendly and familiar in the silvery 
moonlight, and she began to recover from her 
fright. 

“Oh, little swaying Tree-fairies,” she said, stop- 
ping to catch her breath before running on, “you 
look like my Tree-fairies at home in the Sentinel 
Grove. Tell me, what do you talk about when you 
whisper secrets together, anyway? I’ve so often 
wanted to know!” 

“Ah, Little Maid,” they answered, “we’re gather- 


38 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


ing gossip for Peter Pan I” and with that they swayed 
and curtsied to and fro. 

As their leaves parted, met, and parted again, 
Pyxie once more caught sight of the blinking stars, 
and running on she talked to them as she went. 

“Oh, winky, blinky Stars,” she said, “and you, too, 
old Moon-man, I wish you’d come a little closer. 
Night-time’s such a lonely time, and it’s hard to find 
my way.” 

No sooner had she spoken than one of the Stars, 
with a wink and a blink and a nod and a smile, 
whizzed right out of its place in the Heavens and 
came tearing across the sky! On it came with a rush, 
leaving a shimmering golden path behind it, until it 
seemed to drop and fall right behind the trees out of 
sight! 

“Oh,” Pyxie cried, “you beautiful Shooting Star!” 
But before she could say another word she was sur- 
rounded by dozens of tinier stars, all blinking, all 
winking, and flickering about in the air. 

“Why where in the world did you come from?” 
she asked in surprise. “Are you fairies, or just baby- 
stars?” and she laughed with delight at their pretty 
twinkling flicker. 

“We’re both. Little Maid,” they answered in 
voices light and gladsome; “for we are the earthly 
babies of the Star-fairies, and come each night with 
our little fairy torches to ‘light’ the other fairies 
about.” 

“Oh, then you’ll ‘light’ me back home — won’t you, 


THE STAR-FAIRIES 


39 


please?” Pyxie pleaded, “for I’m Pyxie, the Fairy- 
girl, you know, and it’s really very hard to find my 
way, even if I’m not scared any more.” 

“We will, we will, little Pyxie, dear,” they all 
twinkled in a flutter, flying around and around her 
head. “That’s why we’re here; so come!” and with 
that their laughter tinkled-twinkled out happily, 
and they began guiding Sylvia on through the woods. 

At the sweet night sound of their merriment all the 
feathery ferns stirred in their sleep, and the flowers 
exhaled a dreamy perfume as the Dew-fairies rose 
up and kissed their slumbering faces. 

“But where did you come from?” Sylvia asked. 
“You didn’t answer that question, and I’m awfully 
anxious to know. Did you come down from Heaven 
with that big star that fell?” 

“Yes, yes,” they again laughed with a tinkling 
twinkle. “We came down with her because she’s 
our great-greatest-grandmother, you know. But 
come,” as Sylvia stopped in astonishment, “we must 
‘light’ you onward!” 

Sylvia ran forward as they bid her, but questioned 
breathlessly: “Your great-greatest-grandmother? 

I don’t think I quite understand ” 

“Of course you don’t!” one of them broke in. 
“Mortal-folk seldom understand about our fairy- 
make-believe family,” and they all joined in the 
speaker’s twinkling tinkle. 

“Why I’ve heard some little girls like you call us 
‘Lightning-bugs,’ ” he continued. 


40 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“And Fve heard our name was Tire-flies/ ” an- 
other of them scoffed. And they flew and flickered, 
twinkling and tinkling in and out among the trees 
as they led Pyxie nearer and ever nearer her home. 

“Well, I’ll never call you either again,” Pyxie 
promised, “now that I know you are really truly Star- 
fairies!” Then suddenly remembering and peering 
about her she said: “But we must hurry, dear little 
Star-fairies, for I’m sure my mother will be wor- 
ried!” 

So on and on they all went through the woodland 
glade, across the Laughing Brook, and finally into 
the Sentinel Grove where Pyxie’s home stood wait- 
ing, its window-eyes anxiously searching for her 
through the drowsing twilight. 

“Good night. Little Maid,” said the Star-fairies 
in the sky and those flickering all about her in the 
grove. “Good night. We’ll ‘light’ all the Dream- 
fairies to you. Good night!” and they twinkled and 
tinkled away merrily as Sylvia ran into the house. 


CHAPTER FOUR 

Fairy Prisoners 



ft k 









^ Tv ^ 

F^iry prisoners 


NE afternoon, a little while af- 
ter the Star-fairies had shown 
Pyxie the way back home in 
the dark, she was walking 
slowly along the dusty road 
that wound in and out of 
golden hay-fields over beyond 
the Laughing Brook. She did 
not dance along as gaily as usual, for it was very 
warm, and when she thought of her home guarded 
by the stiff-standing Sentinel Grove in which the 
Tree-fairies lived she wished that she had not left 
its shaded coolness. 

“Oh, Mr. Sun,” she sighed, stopping beneath the 
only tree in sight and looking up through its motion- 
less leaves, “why do you smile so hard to-day — you 
43 



44 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


make it so awfully hot!” And with that she sank 
down upon a big flat stone that lay, cool and lazy, 
in its shade and, flinging her bonnet upon the ground, 
brushed back the moist curls that clung so lovingly to 
her dimpled cheeks. 

“We’ll cool you 1 We’ll cool you I” a dainty chorus 
of mischievous voices whispered, and, looking 
around, Pyxie saw her frolicsome friends, the 
Breeze-fairies, spring up and begin dancing merrily 
towards her. Swiftly they came, and their sweet 
transparent faces, as pure as the woodland air, 
laughed into hers, while they caught up the loosened 
strands of her sun-kissed hair and tossed it hither 
and thither, playing hide and seek in its tousled glory. 

The Tree-fairies, filled with joy at the cooling 
breath, swayed and clapped their hands, while the 
little Sunbeams, glad too, filtered through their 
midst and began a flickering dance at Sylvia’s feet. 
Old Mr. Sun, not to be outdone, became frolicsome 
in his big genial way, and peek-a-booing at her bade 
her look about at his happy Summer world. 

“Hey there, Sylvia! What you doing?” she sud- 
denly heard Tommy’s voice call, and turning she 
spied him and Willie as they came tearing down the 
road, kicking up the dust in perfect clouds. 

“I’m talking to the Tree-fairies and old Mr. Sun, 
and ” 

“Oh, shucks,” Tommy scoffed as they both 
stopped; “that’s girl’s play! Come on. Bill, let’s beat 
it!” and he started slowly down the road again. 


FAIRY PRISONERS 


45 


“It’s not girl’s play; it’s really truly play!” Pyxie 
stated indignantly, as he stopped again and grinned 
his teasing, diabolical grin. 

“Now look here, Tom,” Willie said, at once on 
the defensive for his girl friend, “you shut up teasing 
Sylvia; you do it too much,” and then turning to 
her he continued: “I think it’s nice to play like you 
do. Tommy hasn’t got any imagination, that’s what’s 
the matter with him!” Nevertheless Willie had a 
boy’s love for rough play, and preferred to look for 
adventure with Tommy; so he joined him again, 
and both of them began kicking up the dust once 
more. 

Pyxie, looking wistfully after them for a moment 
more, almost let the scowl that the sun hated cloud 
her brow, and then her face brightened and she said: 
“But they haven’t got the fairies for their friends, 
and I have!” So she leaned contentedly back 
against the rock and began her fairy conversation. 

“Oh, tree full of lovely Summer fairies,” she called 
happily, looking up into the quivering leaves and 
beginning her play with them, “you seem to like this 
heat of old Mr. Sun’s.” 

“Of course they do,” Mr. Sun himself beamed, 
smiling harder than ever at his favourite Fairy-girl. 
“Just look how the Flower-fairies hold up their sweet 
faces for my kisses ; and the butterflies, see how they 
flutter about in careless ecstacy! Why, I’m their very 
life! They worship me, for I am their God of the 
Heavens!” 


46 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


And Pyxie, watching earnestly, realised that what 
he said was true, and that all the really truly fairies 
near her were continually bowing their heads in ado- 
ration as they returned his sunny smiles. 

Just at that moment a noise, grating and insistent, 
broke sharply upon the sun-laden air, and, surprised, 
she jumped to her feet. 

“Why, what’s thatl” she cried, peering up into the 
tree from which the sound seemed to come, and be- 
coming more and more puzzled at its high-pitched 
monotone insistence. 

Rasping, scraping, buzzing, it came from among 
the quivering leaves like a thousand ill-tuned cym- 
bals. 

“Z — z — z — z — z — z — zf/ 

Cicada! Cicada-fairies, we! 

Beating to say how hot ifll be! 

Z — z — z — z — z — z — zUr 

“Well, I never heard really truly fairies make a 
funny noise like that before,” Pyxie said, laughing 
and standing upon her tip-toes, vainly trying to see 
into the low-hanging branches. “What in the world 
are you? I wish I could see!” and jumping lightly up 
and down she struggled to catch hold of the lowest 
branch, but without avail. 

— z — z — z — z — z — z! 

Cicadas! — Cicadas — Cicadas, we!!!” 


FAIRY PRISONERS 


47 


they sang in their harsh voices over and over again, 
and Pyxie, becoming still more anxious to see them, 
called: 

“Oh, please come down, little funny-named drum- 
mers, for you must be drummers — talking or singing 
couldn’t sound like that. Comedown! I won’t hurt 
you! I’m Pyxie, the fairy’s God-child, and all the 
fairies tell me their secrets now. Come down — 
please — and tell me how and why you make such 
funny noises.” 

But continuing their call foretelling great heat 
the Cicadas paid absolutely no attention to her re- 
quest. So, at last becoming discouraged, she ceased 
endeavouring to reach them and sat down again upon 
the stone. 

She had not been seated there long, however, when 
the Breeze-fairies, who had whimsically run off as 
usual for a few minutes’ frolic across the fields, re- 
turned and once more danced about her. 

“Look there! Look there!” they whispered, toss- 
ing her curls and pointing over their shoulders; and 
as Pyxie whirled quickly around, what did she see 
but a host of small brown bodies, no larger than her 
thumb, just emerging from beneath the turf. 

Up and up they came, slowly, painfully; crawling, 
scrambling, pushing their way right through the soil 
and out into the light of day. 

“Why, you queer looking things!” she cried. 
“Who are you?” And then fearing lest she might 
have hurt their feelings, she added: “Perhaps you 


48 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


are fairies in disguise I” and bending over nearer 
them she smiled. “Tell me, are you disguised fairies 
— or did some wicked fairy turn you into bugs? You 
don’t look like fairies, and yet ” 

One of them sighed, and listening closely Sylvia 
heard it say, “Both, both. Little Maid; for we are 
Drum-fairies who have been prisoners in a deep, 
dark dungeon, and these ugly bug-armours which 
you see are our prison shackles.” 

“Why, you poor little things. I’m so sorry for 
you!” Pyxie cried. “But now you’re escaping, aren’t 
you?” and she hopped aside to let them pass. 

Slowly, clumsily, they crawled on towards the tree 
without answering, and she said again: “Tell me, 
aren’t you escaping? I’ll try to help you if you will 
only just tell me.” 

But they crawled slowly on, each too eager in his 
endeavour to proceed to listen to her sympathetic 
offer. 

“I do wish you would tell me,” she said wistfully. 
“Every day since the Spray-fairies christened me at 
the Laughing Brook I’ve asked some of the really 
truly fairies questions just like I’m asking you now, 
and they’ve always answered me. But I can’t seem 
to get anybody to answer my questions today, and 
every one of them is important ; things I’m awfully 
anxious to know!” 

But though she waited and watched eagerly for 
the little crawling beasts at her feet to say some- 
thing, the only sound that reached her ears was the 


FAIRY PRISONERS 


49 


insistent “Z — z — z — z — z — z !” coming from the tree 
above her. 

On and on, silently, the horde of little prisoners 
crawled, and seeing them reach the tree and begin 
painfully scrambling up it, Pyxie again spoke: 

“I don’t think you’ll like that tree,” she said. 
“Those other fairies living in it are so noisy, and 
they make that raspy sound so much. Now if you’d 
only ” 

“But they are our brothers,” one of the prisoners 
at last answered, seemingly aroused by her remark, 
“so we love that noise!” And they all seemed to 
hurry their pace at these words. 

“Your brothers?” Sylvia asked excitedly, delighted 
that she had gotten them to answer her. “Then you 
are escaping, aren’t you? You must be escaping 
home. Oh, do for Goodness’ Sake tell me all about 
it! Tell me everything. All about yourselves, and 
your dungeon, and how you got there — and where 
was your dungeon? — And how did you happen to be 
in a dungeon, anyway? — And did you want to escape 
just to get to that tree? Tell me, please tell me!” she 
begged all in one breath, dancing up and down in 
her eagerness. “I’m so awfully anxious to know! 
You see, I never met any really truly prisoners be- 
fore!” 

“We are escaping to the warmth and protection of 
the great Sun-god,” the first prisoner said, “for he 
is the best friend we ever had,” and he led the host of 
other prisoners on, steadily up the tree-trunk. Then 


50 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


pausing a second he asked : “Do you happen to know 
whether he’s at home or not?” 

Pyxie laughed. “Why, yes. Can’t you see him? 
There he is up there,” pointing above the tall tree 
towards the clear blue of the sky. “He’s my best 
friend, too — that is,” she qualified, “almost my best 
friend, and I was talking to him just before I saw 
you. But you haven’t answered all my questions 
yet! Why is he your best friend? Is he your ‘God 
of the Heavens’? And besides, haven’t you been see- 
ing him every day right along? I have; and I know 
he visits all the really truly fairies every day, ’cause 
he told me so.” 

“Ah, he does not visit them when they are pris- 
oners in a dungeon dark and drear,” the first prisoner 
sighed. “None of us have seen his dear face for over 
three hundred days!” 

“Goodness Gracious Alive! How awful!” Pyxie 
exclaimed with sympathy, wondering how she would 
feel in their place. “But surely his grandchildren, 
the little dancing Sunbeams, danced in at your win- 
dows?” 

“No,” he returned, “for we didn’t have any win- 
dows. We’ve been in total darkness for nearly a 
year,” and turning his round eyes towards her Pyxie 
saw that they were full of tears. 

“Well, I never felt so sorry for anybody in all my 
life!” she said, and there were tears of sympathy in 
her own eyes. “But you haven’t told me what made 
you prisoners yet. Was it a war?” 


FAIRY PRISONERS 


51 


“Yes,” he said, bowing his head at the sad recol- 
lection, while all the others bowed their heads, too; 
“but it’s a long story.” 

“Then tell it to me,” Sylvia urged. “Go on I” 

“Well, one hot day last Summer,” he proceeded, 
crawling on up the tree in company with the others, 
“we of the Fairy Drum Corps were here in our Fam- 
ily Tree. The Sun-god was beaming his brightest 
upon us, and our fathers were beating away on their 
drums and cymbals ” 

“Oh, I thought it must be something like that,” 
Pyxie broke in. 

The speaker frowned at her interruption, and see- 
ing this Pyxie murmured, “Excuse me,” and he re- 
sumed : 

“Beating away on their drums and cymbals to 
warn all the other Wood-fairies how awfully hot it 
was going to be, when suddenly without any warn- 
ing at all we heard the most terrifying sound, and 
looking up through the leaves we saw an army of 
Evil-fairies flying towards us, led by their vicious 
Queen 1” 

“Oh, oh !” Pyxie gasped, “who were they and what 
was the name of their Queen?” 

“Big Wasp, the Bad,” he answered in a guttural 
tone of hatred. “And we were so frightened that we 
began rushing hither and thither, trying to hide. — 
Our fathers ceased their music, and the little Breezes, 
seeing our plight, flew up in sudden gusty warning. 
‘Run Pillar-babies, runl’ they called.” 


52 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“And did you?” Pyxie asked, her eyes dancing with 
excitement. “Did you?” 

“You bet we did! You bet we did!” the whole 
crowd of slowly climbing prisoners broke in in a 
chorus, aroused to speech for the first time. 

“Down that tree we tumbled lickcty-split,” the 
first speaker went on, “and when we reached the 
ground, ‘Whisk! Whisk!’ we went right down out 
of sight! — But then,” and his voice trailed off — then 
broke, and he seemed unable to go on with his nar- 
rative. 

“Yes, yes,” Pyxie said. “Go on!” 

“Then — we heard a battle raging above us — and 
pretty soon we saw Big Wasp the Bad, with her 
army, come burrowing down towards us dragging 
our fathers as helpless captives!” 

By now all the little prisoners had crawled high 
up upon the tree-trunk and stood, a motionless array, 
apparently fast asleep, while their speaker pro- 
ceeded : 

“Of course as soon as we saw that, we tried to bur- 
row farther away, but it was too late; and waving 
their wands of Evil Magic those bad fairies turned 
us into the fettered, armoured beastics that you now 
see!” 

“Oh, you poor, poor little Fairy Prisoners!” Pyxie 
sympathised. “What happened next?” 

“We were tied hand and foot and cast into a dun- 
geon — ^where we’ve been ever since,” he finished bit- 
terly. 


FAIRY PRISONERS 


53 


“That was just too cruel for anything!” Pyxie 
broke out angrily; then her face brightened as she 
said: “But you are free now, so you ought to be 
happy.” 

“But think how mortified we must be to be seen 
in these hideous clumsy bug-armours, when we were 
once beautiful free creatures of the Tree-tops. Bah!” 
and he looked at his and his companions’ ugly shack- 
les in utter disgust. “And even if we succeed in 
reaching our brothers in this Tree-top, how are we 
ever going to be really happy again looking as we do 
now! In such ugly dress they will despise us and 
refuse to admit us as their equals!” 

“But maybe if you asked some good kind fairy to 
turn you into ‘beautiful free creatures’ again, she’d 
do it,” Sylvia suggested, feeling more and more sorry 
for these poor disguised fairies. “That’s the way I 
became a Fairy-girl: I just asked the Spray Fairies 
at the Laughing Brook if they couldn’t turn me into 
one and they did.” 

“What good, kind fairy would waste her time or 
sympathy on such as we?” he said sullenly. “No, 
we’ll just have to ” 

But just then Pyxie heard above his voice, drown- 
ing it out completely, a familiar fluttering twitter, 
and looking up she saw her friends the Breeze-fairies 
gently wave the leaves aside, and let a million little 
Sunbeam-fairies come dancing through. 

“We’ll free you! We’ll free you!” they laughed, 
and down, down they came in their shifting golden 


54 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


dance, and smote the Fairy-prisoners full upon their 
backs with magic wands of purest gold I 

“Crack! Crack!” went the ugly, shackling bug- 
armours, and with a cry of glad surprise the whole 
host of prisoners found they were free, and stepping 
out of each armour there came a broad-winged fairy, 
dressed in beautiful green and shimmering bronze. 

Pyxie stood spell-bound, unable to do anything 
but look, and as old Mr. Sun bent forward, flooding 
them with his warm smiles, she saw them spread 
their wings of gauzy lace and fly up, up, ever nearer 
their Sun-god and in amongst their brothers of the 
Tree-tops. 

With a joyous burst of welcome then the brothers 
began afresh the beating of their little drums and 
cymbals, and listening intently, she heard also the 
little freed prisoners as they joined in. 

Clear and loud the merry warning sounded as it 
does on every hot Surrimer’s day: 

^‘Z — z — z — z — z — z — zH 
WeWe so happy now that weWe free 
Up in the top of our Family Tree, 

Beating to say how hot it’ll bel 
Z — z — z — z — z — z — zir 


CHAPTER FIVE 

The Rainbow-Fairies 




OMMY was playing Indian un- 
der a big tree in Pyxic’s Senti- 
nel Grove. Spying him there, 
she left her friends at the 
Laughing Brook and ran to 
join him. 

“Tommy,” she said, noticing 
that he was looking eagerly up 
into the branches, “do you know why the trees whis- 
per together? I do. The Tree-fairies told me the 
other night when I got lost in the woods.” 

“Oh, shucks!” Tommy answered, frowning, puz- 
zled and annoyed as he always was by the little girl. 
“You talk such queer talk, Sylvia! I thought you 
were Willie. Where is he, anyhow?” 

“I don’t know,” Pyxie answered. “Maybe some 
bad fairy has stolen him,” smiling mischievously and 

57 



58 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


enjoying the knowledge that she could thus tease 
him who was so continually teasing her. 

“He went to your house after a hatchet,” Tommy 
said irritably, “and said he’d be right back.” 

“Well, I haven’t seen him; but I’ll play Indian 
with you. Let me be squaw; you never want to be 
that.” 

“Naw,” Tommy said, “I don’t want any squaws; 
this is a war camp!” and turning his back upon her 
he went on gazing up into the tree in his play. 

Pyxie stood angry and hurt. 

“All right, Mr. Selfish, you’ll be sorry some ” 

and then remembering the secret of true happiness 
that she had lately learned from the dancing Spray- 
fairies, she ceased suddenly and, humming a tune, 
began skipping away from him. 

“Oh, Tree-top-fairies, and all you fairies every- 
where,” she half sang in her laughing, happy voice, 
“I love you, and I’m never going to be unhappy 
again, never again,” and she danced from the grove 
out of Tommy’s sight and on into the fields beyond. 

“Come, come,” she called, “come all you fairies 
that love me and let’s frolic here in the field!” and 
dancing like a little wayward sprite herself she 
talked and sang as she went. 

Suddenly she felt kisses on her cheeks, her bob- 
bing curls, and even the kiss-spot just under one rosy 
little ear where her mother loved to kiss her, and 
pretending surprise she stopped. 

“Oh, so it’s you!” she exclaimed, as she saw a 


THE RAINBOW-FAIRIES 


59 


group of transparent fairies dancing about in mid air, 
their faces alight with fun. “Who are you?” 

“We’re the Fairies-of-the-Summer-Breeze,” they 
twittered, entering into her game and bowing and 
curtsying as though just being introduced. “We hear 
you are the fairies’ God-child, Pyxie,” they went on 
“and we’re charmed to meet youl” 

“Oh, you little dancy rascals I” she laughed, drop- 
ping her tone of banter and talking to them as her old 
truant friends. “What mischief are you up to today? 
The last time I went with you you ran off and left 
me in the darkening woods! Oh, I know your 
pranks!” and she shook her finger at them reproach- 
fully. 

But kissing her again and again they danced more 
and more mischievously around her head, until she 
had to laugh in spite of herself. 

“Come,” they begged. “Come with us and we’ll 
show you a lovely sight!” 

“Yes, but how do I know you won’t run off and 
leave me again?” she asked, hesitating, though long- 
ing with all her heart to follow their beckoning 
fingers and see. 

“We promise! We promise!” they cried, merrily 
flying away; while Pyxie, eager as always to dis- 
cover new wonders, followed them as they flew. 

Over meadows filled with waving grasses and 
sweet field flowers they went, then into a dark^ shady 
woods, where suddenly, without even an “Excuse 
me” they flew off and left her as before. 


6o 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“Breeze-fairies! Breeze-fairies!” she called; “you 
little bad Breeze-fairies, you promised not to leave 
me !” and she stood still hoping for their return. But 
the little Breezes, as fickle as their mother, the Wind, 
had forgotten all about her by now and were frolick- 
ing far away among the flirting field flowers. 

“Oh, oh,” she cried, beginning to feel alarmed, 
“why did I come anyway! They’ve left me all alone 
in another dark forest!” and she ran wildly back and 
forth trying to find her way out. 

“Why, I believe I’m lost sure enough this time,”' 
and tears sprang to her eyes. “Well, anyway,” chok- 
ing back a sob, “I’m glad Mr. Bull-frog isn’t here to 
croak ‘You’re lost, you’re lost!’ I guess I can surely 
find my way soon, and if I can’t some good fairies will 
find me and show me, just as the Star-fairies did — 
maybe they are awake and can show me. It certainly 
looks dark enough in here,” and she peered up 
through the closely clustered leaves of the trees all 
about her, trying to see the sky, and whether the Star- 
fairies were blinking down from it. All she saw, 
however, was a very black cloud frowning angrily 
upon her! 

“Goodness, how awfully hard the sky is scowling!” 
she exclaimed. “I think the Spray-fairies had better 
tell it the secret of true happiness!” And then just 
as she was thinking how she could tell the sky how 
wrong it was to scowl, she felt the first splatter of 
rain upon her upturned face. 

Splatter, splatter, down it came harder and harder, 


THE RAINBOW-FAIRIES 


6i 


until in a second, before she could think what to do 
or where to hide, she was soaking wet from head 
to foot, a forlorn little object in the midst of the drip- 
ping woods. 

“Why, this is perfectly dreadful,” she cried, chilled 
and frightened, and then seeing the rain had ceased 
as suddenly as it had begun, she dried her eyes and 
determined she would be brave. 

“I’m sure some fairy will rescue me soon,” she 
said over and over to herself, “so I mustn’t be un- 
happy!” 

She trudged on and on then, until she came to the 
edge of the woods. 

“Why, here’s the field I crossed,” she exclaimed in 
a relieved voice, stopping to look about her, “and 

there’s ” but as she looked more closely over the 

open field she realised she had never seen it before. 

Straight ahead of her, rising from the far side, 
she saw a tall, tall hill. It seemed to reach almost 
to Heaven it was so tall, and on its top there rested the 
big black cloud that she had noticed in the woods. 

“Oh, I’m awfully scared!” she whispered to herself 
as the cloud frowned down upon her. “I think I’ll 
go back to the woods,” and she would have turned 
back had she not heard, just then, the gentle breath 
of the Breeze-fairies’ wings. 

Turning about quickly she saw their mischievous 
faces smiling impishly as they flew forward, passing 
her and beckoning her up the hill. 

“You naughty little Breezes!” she cried, at once 


62 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


forgetting her fright in the pleasure she felt at their 
return. “Why did you run off and leave me? I can 
never trust you again!” 

But shaking their transparent heads they continued 
their silent dance, and beckoned her on and on. 

“Well, I guess I’ve just got to see what’s at the top 
of that funny hill,” she said, her curiosity getting the 
better of her determination not to listen to the 
Breezes’ lure. So shaking her curls elvishly she ran 
after them as hard as ever she could! 

Up and up the hill they trooped, over rocks that 
sheltered baby-ferns and on through the smiling 
flowers, until she had reached the top. Then look- 
ing up above her head she saw that the big black 
cloud had sailed away and in its place had come a big 
white cloud, all soft and fluffy; and beyond that the 
beautiful arch of a rainbow stood firmly glowing 
against the sky. 

“Oh, look. Breeze-fairies, look!” she cried. “What 
a beautiful, wonderful place!” and she ran forward 
eagerly — and discovered that the white cloud was 
full of fairies. 

There they were, hundreds and hundreds of them, 
gathered together around one more beautiful than 
the rest, all dressed in shimmering silvery gauze, and 
as she stood gazing at them the Beautiful One leaned 
forward and smiled. 

“I am Princess Cloud, Queen of the Air,” she said 
in a voice soft and low, “and who are you, my dear?” 

Sylvia gasped, for so radiantly lovely was the little 


THE RAINBOW-FAIRIES 


63 


Princess that her eyes were dazzled as she looked 
upon her; but almost at once recalling her manners 
she said, with a swaying bow such as the Tree-fairies 
made when they bowed to her: 

“I’m Pyxie, Your Majesty; an earthly Fairy-Girl.” 
Then forgetting her manners again in her curiosity 
to know all about the lovely strangers, she continued: 
“But tell me, please, what are you doing here, for 
I’m, awfully anxious to know I” 

“Ah,” the shimmering Princess answered, “I’m 
driving about the Heavens in my Cloud-chariot, for 
that’s my business, you know.” Then seeing Sylvia 
did not quite understand she explained further: “I 
drive about all day and all night watching over 
the ferns and flowers that grow along the way- 
sides.” 

“Oh, you are a really truly Sky-fairy, then!” Sylvia 
said. “I know lots of Earth fairies, for I’m their 
God-child, you know; but I never knew a Sky-fairy 
before. Tell me, why do you watch over the ferns 
and flowers?” 

“Why, flowers, you know, are the imprisoned souls 
of Sky-fairies who have been captured by old Mother 
Earth and held prisoners for a while,” she said. “So 
of course we free fairies who still live in the sky are 
terribly sorry for them, and gather together, as you 
see us now, and weep and weep for them.” 

Pyxie’s eyes opened wider than ever. “Was all 
that rain just now your tears?” she asked. “I never 
knew that before! — But tell me, don’t the poor little 


64 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Sky-fairies’ souls ever get out of prison? I know 
some other fairies that ” 

“Oh, yes,” the Queen of the Air interrupted her to 
say. “When they have helped to beautify old Mother 
Earth for a while, blessing and cheering all her Mor- 
tal-folk, their souls are freed and come up home to 
the skies!” 

“Do they?” Pyxie asked. “Oh, I’d like to see 
them. I never saw flowers blooming in the sky!” 

“Oh, I guess you have. Little Maid,” the lovely 
Princess smiled. 

“No, I’m sure I haven’t,” Pyxie said, shaking her 
curls very positively. “Are they as beautiful as you ?” 

“Far, far more beautiful than II” and turning 
upon her throne the Queen of the Air, and all the 
shimmering fairies about her, pointed to the flower- 
hued rainbow that bridged the valley beyond. 

“There they are I” she cried ; “for when they return 
to my realm they bring with them all the lovely tints 
of their flower-prisons, and though free, continue to 
show the colours of the flowers, glorified!” 

“How lovely!” Pyxie said. “I know all the 
Flower-fairies, but they never told me that. Tell me 
more, please. Go on!” 

“When we send down our tears to those still im- 
prisoned upon the Earth,” the Cloud-princess went 
on, “the Rainbow-flower-fairies come forth and 
softly glow in the sky, to show the Flower-fairies’ 
souls that are escaping from the Earth the way back 
home.” 


THE RAINBOW-FAIRIES 


65 


“Then the rainbow is really a Heaven flower- 
garden, isn’t it?” the little Fairy-girl said with a 
happy laugh. 

“Yes, a garden made of Flower-fairies’ souls,” the 
Princess answered reverently. 

“And do you s’pose if they knew I was trying to 
escape back to my home they’d try to show me the 
way?” Pyxie asked anxiously. “For I was lost just 
now when the Breeze-fairies persuaded me to come 
up here.” 

“Yes, indeed they will,” the Princess assured her; 
“just follow the curve of the rainbow and seel” 

And as Pyxie ran forward over the crest of the 
hill, there, way down on the opposite side of the val- 
ley where the other end of the rainbow rested, she 
saw her home with her mother on the porch watching 
anxiously for her. 

So kissing her hand in adieu to her newest friends, 
the Cloud-fairies, down the hill she ran and was soon 
safe, held tightly within her mother’s arms. 








CHAPTER SIX 

The Fairies’ Birth Gifts 




fairic^ 

SirlfT Gife 


NEW really truly fairy baby 
had just been born among the 
reeds and rushes at the Laugh- 
ing Brook, and above its cra- 
dle its God-parents, the good 
little fairies of forest and field 
and sky, were hovering ready 
to bestow their birthday gifts. 

Old Mr. Sun beamed down upon the scene rather 
puzzled for a moment, and then realising what it 
was all about he bade his Sunbeam grandchildren 
go down with a gift from him. 

“We come, we come. Little One,” they cried, pour- 
ing down in a golden shower, “to bring you happi- 
ness, the joy and happiness of the sunshine, for with 
that gift you can never, never be sadl” and they 
danced about, kissing the babe in their glee. 

69 



70 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“Stop! Stop!” cried the little Spray-fairies, 
springing up from about their rock and beginning a 
gay swirling dance. “Don’t you know Pyxie hasn’t 
come? And we mustn’t bestow any of our gifts until 
our Fairy-girl is here to see! Stop!” and so saying 
they smote the Sunbeam-fairies square upon their 
wings. 

With that the little Rainbows, afraid of a quarrel, 
came between the two fairy bands, bidding them both 
be friends. 

“Why, that’s so, Pyxie isn’t here, sure enough!” 
the little Breeze-fairies fluttered. “We’ll go fetch 
her!” and off they flew to her home in the Sentinel 
Grove not very far away. 

Now Pyxie was busy giving her gardenful of 
Flower-fairies a sprinkling drink, but as she saw the 
Breeze-fairies coming she lifted her face and 
dimpled. 

“Hello, you little rascalawags!” she cried, “more 
mischief, I suppose! Well, what’s up this time?” 

“A christening,” they answered. “A christening; 
for a sweet new fairy’s been born. So come, we need 
you!” and away they flew towards the brook again, 
beckoning her on. 

“Well, you sometimes get me into terribly scarey 
muddles,” she laughed, “but” — flinging down her 
watering-pot, “there’s always something interesting 
to see, so I guess I’ll go with you.” 

So she soon found herself at the edge of the Laugh- 
ing Brook surrounded by her fairy friends. 


THE FAIRIES’ BIRTH GIFTS 


71 


“But where’s the baby fairy that’s to be chris- 
tened?” she asked, looking vainly about her and ques- 
tioning the fairy group. 

“There! There!” a chorus of happy voices an- 
swered, as the Sunbeam-fairies pointed golden fingers 
towards a nearby reed, the Breezes swaying it to and 
fro, while a cloud of other fairies swarmed just over 
it, their arms full of beautiful gifts. 

Pyxie stepped nearer, and there upon the reed, 
sure enough, she saw a fairy baby asleep in a glossy 
black cradle-shell. 

“Oh, you sweet little funny thing!” she exclaimed; 
then looking more thoughtful, “now I suppose Willie 
and Tommy would call you a ‘big old black bug,’ 
but I know that you are a really truly fairy. My 
eyes have been touched with the Spray-fairies’ lovely 
magical spell, for I’m Pyxie, you know, the Fairy- 
girl!” 

“Yes, yes, Pyxie, step closer,” the hovering fairies 
said, “for we were just waiting for you to come be- 
fore giving the baby her birthday gifts. Now we 
must go on with the christening. 

“All right,” the Fairy-girl agreed, stepping just 
as close as she could. “Go on. God-parents, I’m 
watching!” 

Just then, however, old Father Bumble came 
bumbling up. 

“What’s all this fuss-fuss?” he asked in a deep buzz 
of self-importance. “My! My!” 

“We’re christening this baby, your Worship,” one 


72 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


of the fairies spoke up, “and you’re just in time to 
help.” 

“Very well, very well,” he bumbled, bowing his 
huzzy head and mumbling some words of prayer. 
“Proceed, proceed,” with a pompous wave of his 
wings at the dancing Sunbeam-fairies. 

They flickered back their assent, and bending 
above the sleeping babe said, as they had said before: 
“Our gift is sunshine and happiness, dear, so your 
life will always be glad!” and down, down they show- 
ered bundles of blessings, made of their golden glow. 

“And our gift shall be grateful shadows in which 
to hide when it’s hot!” the Tree-fairies rustled to- 
gether, bowing and nodding, as they presented a 
parcel of shade. 

“And ours the love of perfumed flowers and the 
honey that grows at their hearts,” the Flower-fairies 
whispered with their sweetest breath. 

“You shall have from us,” the mischievous Breeze- 
fairies laughed, “little breeze-wings on which to float 
about.” 

“While our gift shall be the gift of hope,” the 
Rainbows archly murmured, coming nearer and be- 
stowing a crystal ball of myriad-colored clearness. 
Through this they told the baby he must look if trou- 
ble should ever approach. “For,” they explained, 
“trouble will turn to hope if you never forget the 
rainbow!” 

“Oh, I wish I could give it something!” Sylvia 
said wistfully. 


THE FAIRIES’ BIRTH GIFTS 


73 


“Why, you can, you can!” the fairies all answered 
in a merry chorus. “Just stop a moment and 
think.” 

Pyxie’s big eyes grew wider than ever and more 
puzzled, and then puckering her forehead she 
thought very hard for several moments. 

“Oh, I know now,” she finally said; “I’ll give you 
my love and protection, and the love of all little 
Mortal-folks everywhere!” and laughing, she blew 
the funny baby a kiss from her rosy finger-tips. 

He stirred and opened his bulging eyes, but did 
not speak, so old Father Bumble went on with his 
part, in a solemn, dignified buzz: 

“And now I give you my blessing — and a name,” 
and gathering dew from the font of a flower he 
sprinkled it upon the baby’s head. 

“Thou shalt be called Caddis-fly, a really truly 
fairy. Go forth and help make the world beautiful! 
Amen.” 

A hymn of Nature’s wonders broke forth at this 
benediction, the onlooking God-parents joining in; 
when suddenly there came from behind them the 
hissing evil sound of terrible anger in a loud dis- 
cordant note. 

“Oh,” Sylvia cried, “what’s that!” but before she 
could whirl around all the fairy voices had ceased, 
and she saw a horribly grimacing bad fairy alight 
right down in their midst. 

“Ah — ha!” the Evil One cried, leering about her, 
“so you thought to dower this child with nothing but 


74 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


gifts of good, eh? Well, I wasn’t asked to this chris- 
tening, but I guess I can have my say I” 

“Oh, you horrid, horrid old thing! Go ’way!!” 
Pyxie exclaimed, stamping her foot. But the Evil 
Fairy only laughed her screeching laugh, while a 
perfect storm of frightened wails broke out from the 
fairies of forest and fields and sky. 

“Oh, oh,” they wept, “ ’tis Big Wasp the Bad, 
come with her gift of wickedness!” and crowding 
nearer the helpless babe they tried their best to shield 
it. But not one among them had the power to stay 
her evil hand, so on she crept until she reached the 
little christened one. 

“From me,” she said slowly, bending above its 
glossy shell-cradle until her ugly face almost touched 
the baby’s frightened one, “you shall have this curse: 
Selfishness” 

The other fairies mourned and groaned with an- 
guish, and tears of distress came to Pyxie’s bright 
eyes, but Big Wasp the Bad continued: 

“Yes, selfishness! So content with yourself and 
your wonderful gifts shall you be that you shall think 
only of yourself, and thus you shall build your own 
prison, for so it is always with those who do not think 
of others! You shall live in the prison of selfishness 
all alone; you shall ” 

“Here, here,” the Spray-fairies interrupted. 
“Stop!” and they for once stood very still by their 
rock. “We haven’t given our birth gift yet, and 
though we cannot undo your evil spell we can do this : 


THE FAIRIES’ BIRTH GIFTS 


75 


After many moons have passed our laughing waters 
shall have washed away your accursed bondage. 
This poor little fairy shall emerge from our midst 
in wwselfish splendour and, forgetting self, fly about 
upon the Breeze-fairies’ gift, helping to make the 
world beautiful!” 

‘‘Oh, goody, goody! I’m so glad!” P5rxie cried, 
clapping her hands and jumping up and down. 
Then growing serious, she continued: “But I feel so 
sorry for it! And when will it have to build its 
prison, the poor thing?” 

“This second!” Big Wasp the Bad hissed. And 
chuckling in evil glee she struck the baby with her 
wand. 

Down, down, down from the swaying reed it tum- 
bled, shell-cradle and all, straight into the crystal- 
clear waters of the Laughing Brook. 

“Oh-h!” Pyxie exclaimed in chorus with the fair- 
ies, and peering through the water they saw it im- 
mediately begin crawling about upon the sandv 
bottom. 

There were other small water creatures all about 
busily engaged in building their winter homes; but 
the baby-caddis-fly, utterly oblivious of anything 
save its own comfort, snatched their materials and 
began to build for itself. 

“Oh, look!” Pyxie said to the fairies, “it has started 
its prison! Isn’t there any way we can stop it? I 
do feel so sorry for the poor little thing!” 

“No, Little Maid, it must learn its own lesson just 


76 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


as all selfish folk do,” the Tree-fairies sighed, and 
all of the fairies, silent and sad, watched as the Cad- 
dis-fly continued busily working, snatching tiny 
sticks and stones away from its neighbours and glu- 
ing them together about himself in a long, round 
prison-cell. 

“See, see, how smart I be!” he exclaimed, speaking 
for the first time and wagging his foolish, vain head. 
“A palace I’ll make, from the sticks that I take, and 
nobody shall use it but meT' And with that, having 
completed the task of making its outer walls, he 
crawled back into it. 

No sooner had he done so than a disagreeable, 
shrill laugh broke the stillness of the onlookers, and 
Pyxie saw that Big Wasp once more hovered above 
the Caddis baby, waving her wand in the air just 
over the surface of the brook. With a final toss of 
his selfish head the little Caddis-fly tried to come out 
to greet her, when lo and behold! he found he was 
bound by her curse to the prison he had built and 
could only leave it at the risk of his life! 

“Let me out!” he begged. But laughing her 
hideous laughter the Evil One only scoffed at his 
distress, and then flew away and left him, for she 
saw that her curse had turned him into a helpless 
prisoner and that none of his birth gifts could help 
him now. 

^ ***** * 

Many moons later Pyxie was once again playing at 
the Laughing Brook. The Breeze-fairies teased her 


THE FAIRIES’ BIRTH GIFTS 


77 




to follow them as usual, frolicking with mischief 
through her hair, the Trees bowed to and fro, and 
the Flower-fairies gazed at their own reflections in 
the brook’s mirrored coolness, when suddenly with- 
out any warning whatever the Spray-fairies cried out 
in gladdest glee : 

^ Swirl, Whirl, Swirl, Whirl; 

Our magic has worked, Little GirlT 

and turning quickly towards the brook Pyxie saw the 
long imprisoned Caddis-fly baby rise up! up! to the 
surface of the water and, instantly spreading its ex- 
quisite Breeze-wings, fly away. 

“Oh, God-parent-fairies of woods and streams and 
fields, look, look! There goes the little selfish Cad- 
dis-baby! He’s escaped!” she cried, pointing after 
him. 

The Breeze-fairies laughed with joy and, flying 
hither and thither, whispered the secret everywhere. 
“He’s using our gift, see!” And they all watched 
him as he mounted higher and higher on the lacy 
wings that they had given him. 

“And now,” the dancing Sunbeams smiled, “he 
shall know the happiness that is our gift!” 

“He shall drink the nectar from our lips!” the 
Flower-fairies joined in. 

“And rest in our shade when he’s tired!” the Trees 
sighed, clapping their hands and waving back and 
forth as they spoke. 


78 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


And Pyxie, standing watching as the escaped Cad- 
dis-fairy flew farther and farther away, cried : 

^‘Good luck, little Breezy-wings!” and wafted him 
a kiss from the tip of her fingers as he disappeared 
into the blue of the sky where it met the mirroring 
pond far beyond her sight. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 

Where Dreams Come From 










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Lcre Dreams 
Come Jrom 


D Mr. Sun had gone to bed, 
and Pyxie’s mother and father 
had kissed her good night 
and gone away, too, so that 
she now lay half awake, 
half asleep, her tousled curls 
covering the pillow, while 
the Sky-fairies shadowed the 
world with their thick gray mantles and everything 
grew still. 

It was becoming quite dark in the little casemented 
room, but she did not feel frightened, for she knew 
that her ever watchful friends, the really truly fair- 
ies, were always near to guard her from all harm. 
So lying quietly now she looked from her window, 
through the vines that clung half over it, out into the 

8i 



82 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


dimly lit garden where the flowers slumbered, re- 
calling dreamily how in the early evening she had 
seen the Dew-fairies gather about them and, 
spangling them with jewels, kiss their sleeping 
faces. 

She could see into the Sentinel Grove, too, where 
the softly rustling Trees whispered, whispered, 
whispered, gathering their gossip for Peter Pan, and 
out beyond it all, way away from the edge of the 
woods, there came faintly to her listening ears the 
laughing voices of the Spray-fairies as they danced in 
their Laughing Brook. 

Then, one by one. Heaven’s starry eyes opened, and 
old Mr. Moon-man came sailing slowly up through 
his sea of clouds and stopped, seeming to hang sus- 
pended just outside of Pyxie’s window. She smiled 
into his round funny face, and he smiled back at her, 
until her eyelids became so heavy she couldn’t hold 
them open another single second ; so down, down they 
fluttered until the long lashes caressed her dimpled 
cheeks and little Pyxie, the Fairy-girl, fell fast 
asleep. 

Floating in through the casement then there came 
a bevy of wonderful fairies, palest green with silvery 
lights, in the smiling trail of the moon. In and in 
and in they came, fluttering and flying, until the 
whole room seemed filled to overflowing with the 
beauty of their dream-like presence as they floated 
around Pyxie’s little white bed. 

Pyxie was asleep, so her day-time mortal-eyes were 


WHERE DREAMS COME FROM 


83 


closed; but the magic of her dream-eyes was wide 
awake now and she watched the pretty host. 

“Oh, little night-time sprite,” she cried in her 
magic dream-voice, spying one lovelier than all the 
rest, “come closer, I want to see what you are!” 

So down it fluttered until its gauzy wings brushed 
her curls back from her ear, and in a voice as sweet 
as the evening air whispered: 

“I’m a Dream-fairy, and my fairy name is Free 
Fancy!” Then it fluttered away. 

“Oh,” Sylvia smiled, suddenly opening her real 
eyes and murmuring: “But you look like a butter- 
fly, and you must have kissed me just now!” Where- 
upon her heavy eyelids dropped down again, and all 
the Dream-fairies began fluttering more gaily than 
ever about her curly head. 

“Yes, that’s what Mortal-folks call me,” little Free 
Fancy tinkled, “a butterfly, a nf^A^-butterfly ; but I’m 
really a really truly fairy, you know, and my really 
truly name is Luna-moth. I’m named for my great- 
greatest-grandparent, the Moon!” and laughing at 
the puzzled look on Sylvia’s sleeping face she joined 
the others as they continued to flutter aimlessly just 
as all dreams do, around and around and around in 
the veil of mist that divides Dreamland from the 
Land-that-never-was ! 

“But where did so many of you come from?” 
Pyxie asked in her magic dream-voice so soft and 
low that no mortal ear could hear it. 

“From the Kingdom of Beautiful Dreams.” they 


84 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


answered in a silvery chorus, stooping to kiss her 
brow. 

“Where is that? I’ve so often wanted to know 
where dreams come from,” and she turned restlessly, 
smiling and rumpling her curls. 

Free Fancy hesitated a moment, then whispering 
something to her sister-dreams they all leaned for- 
ward and touched the sleeping child with their moon- 
shine wands. 

“Come with us and seel” they said, and Sylvia saw 
that a million Moonbeam-fairies had come throng- 
ing into her room in among the Dream-fairies, and 
that they were towing a beautiful silvern boat! 

Gently they floated just above her head, and she 
discovered that she was being lifted by the Dream- 
fairies about her — until, wafted to and fro for a 
moment, she reached the boat and embarked. 

Softly then it sailed, first rising high above the bed, 
then steadying its dainty keel it made for the window 
and sailed away, out, out into the Sea of Dreams, 
over the Land of Sleep I 

The rhythmical motion soothed and lulled her like 
her mother’s bed-time songs, and smiling she sailed 
on, far, far away from home and into a moonlit for- 
est of swaying Tree-fairies. 

As they passed gaily on through this Sylvia saw 
the little Tree-fairies saying their evening prayers 
in the top-most branches, and the birds, who are Na- 
ture’s fairies, too, you know, singing the world to 
sleep. All about her other slumbering children, on 


WHERE DREAMS COME FROM 85 

their voyages of joy, saluted as they sailed past, each 
in his Boat of Dreams. 

On and on Sylvia went, the Dream-fairies leading 
the way, until with a downward flutter they sank and 
stopped before the stump of an aspen tree. 

“Oh,” her Dream-voice cried, as she felt the 
plunge of the boat, “where are we going, pray?” 
But before any answer came from the hovering 
Dream-fairies, she saw the stump and its sweetheart- 
vine that grew around it so lovingly, and felt that 
she was safe. 

“Here we are!” they said, “at the wonderful Pal- 
ace of Night!” and lifting her from the boat they 
stood her up on the mossy ground where the moon- 
beam-fairies flickered. 

Straight into the vine, then, the little Dream-fair- 
ies flew, and stopping before a big cluster of white 
blossoms, bowed their pretty heads. 

“Why, what are you doing; tell me, tell me!” 
Pyxie begged, quite as excited as she was in her day- 
time wanderings ’mongst the fairies of woods and 
fields. 

“We are paying our homage to the Queen of 
Night,” the lovely moth who had k,issed her said. 
“Mortal-folk call it the Moon-flower vine, but if 
you’ll come a little closer Pll show you a Queen and 
her train 1” 

Sylvia went close up to the biggest blossom of all, 
and there, sure enough, she saw the beautiful Queen 
of Night with a golden crown upon her head, and 


86 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


about her groups of worshipful courtiers dressed in 
palest gold. 

“She looks like the Flower-fairy Princess that got 
married,” Sylvia said dreamily, and as her voice 
echoed through the woodland glade all the other day- 
time fairies stirred and whispered her name in their 
sleep. 

With the sound of their familiar tones in her ears 
she realised she was in a land where they all knew 
her. “Well,” she exclaimed, “I didn’t know be- 
fore that all of you came to the Land of Dreams, 
too!” 

“Of course we do,” they murmured softly, “that’s 
why Dreamland is always beautiful for children who 
believe in us and love us! The Land of Dreams is in 
the Realm of Sweet Thoughts, and that realm be- 
longs to every little child!” Then laughing and 
dancing they pointed out all the mystic wonders of 
the moonshiny night, and Sylvia looking about her 
said: 

“It’s beautiful, little Dream-fairies, and just like 
my day-time play, only it’s realer, that’s all!” And 
she stood watching, intensely interested in everything 
she saw, while the dream-world’s life went busily on 
about her. 

Looking once more into the Palace of Night, the 
big exquisite blossom of the moon-flower vine, she 
saw all the large-winged Luna-moths that were really 
truly Dream-fairies come and go before her. Up 
they would fly to the Queen and, pausing before her 


WHERE DREAMS COME FROM 


87 


throne, bow their heads again and again in gentle 
loving homage. 

To each of them the Queen gave a bundle wrapped 
in a fold of starlight and tied with a tiny rainbow. 
These they tucked carefully under their wings and 
merrily flew away. 

“Why, what’s that you’re giving them, your 
Nightly Majesty?” Pyxie asked, unable to keep her 
questions to herself even in her sleep. 

The Queen of the Night returned her wide-eyed 
gaze, seeming to see her standing there for the first 
time ; and then she spoke : 

“They are little children’s dreams,” she said, “for 
I and my loved courtiers keep guard over all the dear 
little ones who love us and believe in fairies! And 
thus you see we send out to them each night the rain- 
bow dreams that flitter about their heads like the 
beautiful moths that carry them!” 





CHAPTER EIGHT 

The Storm-Fairies’ Battle 







10 

^iric5 
Batllc 


ATE one afternoon Sylvia was 
playing in her garden among 
the little Flower-fairies, when 
suddenly she felt cool rain- 
drops upon her flushed cheeks, 
and looking up saw a low- 
hanging Cloud-chariot filled 
with little Sky-fairies crying, 
their thick gray mantles held to their streaming eyes. 

“Oh, Fairy-sisters,” she heard them mourn, as, 
weeping, they bent ever nearer the up-looking 
flower-faces. “Oh, souls of imprisoned sweetness,, 
we weep for you, so grow, grow, growl” 

She understood it all perfectly, for many weeks 
before, on the day when she had gotten lost in the 
91 




92 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


woods and the Rainbow-fairies had shown her the 
way back home, had not the Cloud-fairies explained 
it to her? Had not the Queen told her how the 
flowers were the Earthly prisons of the Sky-fairies 
who, when the flowers had had their growth, were 
freed and joined the Rainbow, helping to make it 
beautiful with the colours of their glorified souls? 
So now she smiled up into the cloud and said: 

“They’ll soon be free. Cloud-fairies dear, so don’t 
cry too hard I” 

But just then another cloud came scurrying across 
the sky, and as she watched it she saw that it was 
filled with strange leaden-coloured fairies that she 
had never seen before. 

The little Summer Breezes seeing them, too, sud- 
denly sprang up about her, and with looks of fright 
cried: “Run, Pyxie, run! A storm’s a-coming! A 
storm’s a-coming!” and off they flew to hide in their 
Echo-cave way over beyond the Rainbow. 

“Who are they, those strange fairies, I wonder,” 
Pyxie said to herself, disregarding the Breeze’s warn- 
ing and standing still midst the gentle patter of the 
Cloud-fairies’ tears. 

As she stood thus she saw the first Cloud-chariot 
come scurrying across the sky all soft and fluffy, and 
as it got just above her head she could see quite 
plainly that the Air-Queen, seated in the midst of the 
weeping Sky-fairies, was the one she had talked to 
on that day when the fickle Breezes had led her up 
the tall, tall hill. 


THE STORM-FAIRIES’ BATTLE 


93 


So waving her little hand she called: “Hello 
there, my Air-Queen!” 

As she spoke, however, she saw that the Queen’s 
face, instead of being all sweet smiles as it had been 
on the day when she had first seen her, was now all 
frowns and worry. 

“I wonder what’s the matter with her,” she said, 
puzzled, rather hurt that the Queen paid no atten- 
tion to her salutation; “her face looks all black!” 

But at that moment Pyxie saw that the leaden-col- 
oured cloud was sailing rapidly forward — was over- 
taking the Air-Queen’s chariot — and then, that it had 
sailed on by. Then she heard a rumble, and listen- 
ing closely knew it came from the leaden-coloured 
cloud. 

“You think you are the Ruler of the Heavens,” it 
rumbled angrily. “Well, I’ll just show you; for I 
am Thunder-r-r, the Power-r-rful!!” and it frowned 
darkly upon the Air-Queen and her train. 

The Air-Queen trembled for a moment in fright, 
and seeing this the Thunder gave another threatening 
grumbling roar. “I’ll this day destroy you, and 
r-r-rule!!” 

And then the Air-Queen lost her temper com- 
pletely and, drawing her sword, with a flash she 
whipped up the Wind-steeds hitched to her Cloud- 
chariot and charged furiously after the enemy. 

“Usurper!” she hissed. Then turning to her train 
of weeping Sky-fairies she cried in lightning com- 
mand: 


94 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


^^Fight! Fight! for your Ruler, my Braves! 

Or we shall be beaten by knaves! 

Your swords you must flash 
Before their guns crash, 

Flash-flash for your Ruler, my BravesT^ 

And drying their eyes the Sky-fairies flashed-flashed- 
flashed their swords of fire, cutting right through the 
enemies’ ranks. 

Away and away then the two Cloud-armies hur- 
ried and scurried right across the darkened Heav- 
ens! 

Old Mr. Western Sun, saddened by such a display 
of temper, hid his face; the other little fairies that 
live in the sky peeped out with terror from behind a 
dark curtain that veiled their presence, and the 
Cloud-fairies wept down harder than ever; while 
Mother Earth’s fairy-children crouched about her 
skirts and trembled, and Pyxie saw that over the en- 
tire world there had descended a hushed, ominous 
silence. 

“Oh,” she gasped, so fascinated by the tremendous 
sight of the battling Heavens that she stood rooted 
to the spot, “I’m sure there’s going to be a dreadful 
Heaven-war!” and she continued to gaze up into the 
clouds. 

“Hey, there, Sylvia! Ain’t you got sense enough 
to come in out of the rain?” Tommy called as he and 
Willie tore across the far end of the lawn and burst 
unceremoniously into Pyxie’s house. “Come on in, 


THE STORM-FAIRIES’ BATTLE 


95 


you silly!” and having reached the doorway he and 
Willie both stood beckoning to her wildly. 

“No,” she said, “I want to stay here in the garden 
and watch the Sky-fairies!” and she continued to 
gaze upwards, intensely interested in what she saw 
going on in the clouds above her. 

Suddenly, terrifically, from out the deep dark re- 
sounding Thunder-caves far down below the horizon, 
the Thunder-fairies’ cannon-corps came rolling 
blackly into view! On they came, growling, grum- 
bling, their heavy guns firing at the Air-Queen’s 
Cloud-chariot as it again charged forward. 

At the awful noise of it all the Air-Queen and all 
her train seemed to waver for a moment, but quickly 
gathering together again the Queen cried: 

*^Rally about me, my men! 

Flash-flash, again and again! 

Your swords you MUST flash 
Before their guns crash! 

With a last blinding flash we shall win!!^* 

And from all about the Queen’s Cloud-chariot Sylvia 
saw troops of Light-cavalry flashing out quick as 
lightning; and drawing their fiery swords, they cut 
great jagged gaps in the enemy’s lines! 

“Sylvia, Sylvia!” her mother called in quick alarm, 
appearing in the doorway just then and seeing Pyxie 
standing, spell-bound, in the midst of the crouching 
garden; “come in at once!” 


96 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Reluctantly leaving her flower friends to their fate 
beneath the quarrelling skies Pyxie ran into the 
house and shut the door, and with a frightful bang 
and crash, and roar, the whole host of Thunder-fair- 
ies fired all their guns at once I 

“Oh-h!” she squealed, sticking her fingers into her 
ears, “the battle has begun in deadly earnest! See, 
seel” and she pointed out of the window to the sky, 
where the Light-cavalry were rallying about their 
Queen and flash-flash-flashing their fiery swords fear- 
lessly. 

Volley after volley of the Thunder-fairies’ guns 
came rolling and roaring right over the house-top, 
drowning every other sound as they hurled their 
thunder-bolts into the Air-Queen’s ranks! 

“Flash-flash-flash!!” went the Light-cavalry’s 
swords as they rushed forward and grappled with 
the clashing, roaring Thunder! 

R-O-O-ARR! R-O-O-ARR!! went the Thun- 
der’s deadly guns ! 

The whole sky was a terrible, struggling battle- 
field, and Sylvia, at last awed and half-frightened, 
caught her breath and crouched down by her moth- 
er’s knees. 

“It’s perfectly awful for fairies to fight like that!” 
she gasped. 

“Hooray, I think it’s bully!” Willie said, press- 
ing his nose flat against the streaming window- 
pane. 

Tommy pressed his nose flat against the window- 


THE STORM-FAIRIES’ BATTLE 


97 


pane, too, but would not enter into Pyxie’s mood; so 
Willie went on: 

“It’s a regular ripper, Sylvia. Hooray, the Thun- 
der-fairies are beating I” 

“No they’re not,” Sylvia quickly contradicted him. 
“Don’t you hear ” 

But drowning out her voice completely the two 
Cloud-armies went on furiously fighting out their 
world-old quarrel, and for several moments Sylvia 
could not make herself heard. 

Presently, however, the Thunder’s guns fired a 
little less often, and she said: “Don’t you see them 
retreating? My Air-Queen and her Light-cavalry 
are beating!” 

Then as the sound of the Thunder became more 
and more distant, and the flashing kept up, she con- 
tinued : 

“The Light-cavalry are driving the Thunders back 
into their deep, dark cave way over beyond the Rain- 
bow!” 

“Humph!” Tommy scoffed, unable to control him- 
self longer; “such foolish talk!” and though, with 
Willie, he still had his nose pressed flat against the 
window-pane, he managed to make a face at Pyxie 
where she stood. 

Again the Light-cavalry flash-flash-flashed their 
swords, and again the Thunder’s guns rolled; but 
this time it was way away near the Sunrise Hills, 
and Sylvia clapped her hands with delight. 

“Goody! Goody!” she cried, “the horrid old 


98 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


usurpers are getting out of my Air-Queen’s realm as 
fast as ever they can!” And sure enough, with a last 
despairing “R-O-O-ARR!” the Thunder-fairies gave 
up the battle and retreated into their cave, dragging 
their grumbling disappointment after them in a 
muffled, far-ofif roll! 

“Thank Goodness, it’s over!” Sylvia sighed with 
relief ; and old Mother Earth, sighing too, shook out 
her wet skirts and aroused her crouching children. 

“What, you frightened by a little temper in the 
skies!” she scolded as the Tree and Flower-fairies 
continued to hold down their heads and let the rain- 
drops drip from them tearfully. “For shame! I 
need smiles, not tears!” 

For a moment more they hung their heads, appa- 
rently unable to obey, and then old Mr. Sun popped 
out and they smiled up at him once more. Mother 
Earth laughed outright at this, and everywhere the 
birds began to sing. 

Sylvia danced towards the door, her curls bobbing 
merrily. “Come on, boys, let’s go see the Garden. 
The Flower-fairies must be half drowned, the poor 
little things!” and skipping gaily out she ran down 
the steps. 

“Come on. Bill, let us splash in the mud-puddles!” 
Tommy suggested with glee, and suiting the action 
to the words he and Willie followed her, and were 
soon in the muddy condition that gladdened their 
very souls! 

Pyxie, intent only on her play with the really truly 


THE STORM-FAIRIES’ BATTLE 


99 


fairies, ran on lightly across the grass, still spangled 
with the Cloud-fairies’ tears, and entered the garden 
alone. 

“Oh, you sad little weepy things!” she exclaimed, 
as, flitting from flower to flower like a butterfly, she 
kissed their sweet wet faces. “It’s all over, so you 
must dry your eyes and laugh; for see,” and she 
pointed, “here comes the Queen-of-the-Air and her 
little Breezes!” 

And raising their heads still higher towards the 
Sun the Flower-fairies saw the Air-Queen come sail- 
ing once more across the sky. This time, however, 
her head was held high in conquering pride; she 
smiled, and all about her her subjects, the Cloud- 
fairies, smiled too. Around and around danced the 
truant Breezes, and though her Cloud-chariot was 
now of purest white, the steeds she drove were of 
brilliant sunset hues, her pathway was strewn with 
Sky-blush roses, and everywhere, over the whole 
wide windswept Heavens, there glowed the colours 
of the Flower-fairies’ souls, glorified. 

Sylvia drew in her breath sharply at the wonderful 
sight, and old Mr. Sun, smiling harder than ever, 
bade his Rainbow dancers come forth from their 
Crystal-cave down near the Laughing Brook, and 
dance among the jewelled flowers. 



















CHAPTER NINE 

The Coming of the Winter- 
Fairies 






LD King Cold’s forerunner, 
Jack Frost, started it, the imp- 
ish elf, or else the Summer 
world would not have fled 
away. Coming in his hoary 
garb, he had teased and chased 
the Summer until she hid her 
eyes and wept equinoctial 
tears; and then with a wave of his withering wand 
he freed the Flower-fairies, just as Pyxie had been 
told he would, and their souls were wafted up to 
help make the Rainbow. 

Old Priest Bumble-bee, discouraged with the 
blossomless world, hid himself and slept like all the 
other winged fairies; and everywhere Mother Earth 
seemed waiting for Old King Cold, the Prince of 
Winter, to arrive. 



103 


104 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Then with another wave of his wand Jack Frost 
turned the bright green dresses of the Tree-fairies 
into brilliant orange, red, and russet brown. Stark 
November ran quickly after flaming October, and 
screaming on his blow-trumpet old King Cold, the 
Prince of Winter, marched down from his home in 
the North, and firmly settling himself within Mother 
Earth’s arms bade his grandchildren, the Winter- 
fairies, come forth to dance and play. 

Obeying him the little Summer Breezes, now 
grown into Winter Winds, came sweeping down 
about him and danced in icy splendour, their breaths 
turning the Water Sprites everywhere into rainbow- 
tinted crystal, clear as truth! 

Old Mr. Sun, though ofttimes pale and shivering, 
continued to get up every morning and, shining down 
into the upturned face of Mother Earth, tried to 
cheer and warm her with his smiles. But one morn- 
ing the Cloud-fairies had drawn their Mist of Tears 
clear across the Heavens, and though he got up as 
usual, he could not see one single thing! 

“Why,” he exclaimed, “who’ll wake Pyxie if I 
can’t smile in at her window!” And so saying he 
smiled harder than ever in his anxious endeavour to 
coax the weeping Cloud-fairies from the sky. But 
without avail; for, gathering more closely together, 
they wept softly. 

“How provoking they are, to cut off my view like 
this!” old Mr. Sun exclaimed; and then in a worried 
tone — “And who will wake Pyxie?” 


THE COMING OF THE WINTER-FAIRIES 105 


But just then up into the sky swept a whole host of 
Winter Winds, crying gaily: “We’ll chase the 
clouds away so that you can!” And dancing and 
blowing they did their very best to send the Cloud- 
fairies scurrying off; but continuing to weep deeply, 
the Cloud-fairies paid absolutely no attention to 
them, and went on singing their song of rain. 

Then the Winter Winds lost their temper. 
“What!” they cried, “you will not mind us!” and 
whistling and blowing angrily they swept in a great 
cold wave around and around just beneath where the 
Cloud-fairies wept. 

“When we blow you must go!” they blustered out 
in stormy scoldings; but the Cloud-fairies wept on, 
their tears dripping steadily down into the colder air 
below them. 

Then the Winter Winds got more angry than ever, 
and sang out in a big blustery chorus : 

^'Blow, blow, blow! 

If you don’t go 

We’ll turn your tear-drops into snow!!” 

and smote the Cloud-fairies’ tears with their wands 
of Winter ice! 

And then the most wonderful thing happened ! All 
the little raindrops crystallized as quick as a wink, 
and turning into White Snowflake-fairies whirled 
and swirled down toward Mother Earth, dancing 
merrily. 


io6 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Their faces were very beautiful and sparkling, 
and as they held their warm fluffy furs about them 
they laughed at the cross old Winter Winds who, 
surprised at the success of their threat, momentarily 
subsided into chilly silence. Old Mr. Sun peeped 
out for a moment and, smiling, bade the Snow-fair- 
ies go down and wake his Fairy-girl! 

Inside the casemented room of the Big House, 
guarded by the bare upstanding Sentinel Grove, the 
Fairy-girl’s really-truly-body slept, knowing noth- 
ing of the Winter world fast growing white outside 
her window, but her dream-body sailing far, far 
away over the Sea of Sleep was now in the golden 
Dreamland of Summer, and as she opened her magic 
night-eyes, the eyes that had been given her by Free 
Fancy, the Queen of Dreamland, she saw the Spray- 
fairies frolicking in the Laughing Brook. Old Priest 
Bumble-bee was there too, marrying millions of 
Flower-fairies; the Star-fairies winked and blinked 
at her just as they had done when the Breezes left 
her in the woods to find her way home all alone in the 
dark; and the Fairy-rainbows played hide and seek 
among the sun-kissed blossoms of her garden. 

“Oh, it’s just like my Summertime play, only it’s 
realler, that’s all!” she said, as she had said once 
before when the Dream-fairies showed her the 
Queen of Night sending sweet dreams to little chil- 
dren by her Moth messengers. 

But just then, right in the midst of her realliest 
iruliest dream, the Flame-fairies on her hearth 


THE COMING OF THE WINTER-FAIRIES 107 


jumped up from among their companions of the 
smouldering embers and began a snapping, crackling 
dance, calling to her to wake and come nearer their 
merry warmth. 

At the sound of their voices she opened her eyes 
and looked about the room sleepily; but not seeing 
old Mr. Sun beaming his good-morning in at her 
window she turned over and closed her eyes again. 

The Snow-flake-fairies whirled down to earth 
faster and faster, clustering together, and tapped 
against her window-pane. 

■ “What a lazy one she is!” they laughed. Then 
tip-tapping more loudly they called in a swirling 
chorus: 

“Wake up, Pyxie! Wake up!” 

At the soft sound of them Pyxie at last roused, 
and jumping from her little bed ran to the window. 

“Oh, oh,” she gasped with delight as she saw its 
decorated surface and then looked through it to the 
dancing snowflakes beyond. “Everything’s going to 
be beautiful — but I wonder what this is?” examining 
the pane more closely and discovering a lovely 
tracery of ferns and trees wrought upon it in silver. 

The Snowflake-fairies paused in their tapping 
a moment to answer: “Why, don’t you know? It’s 
the Dream of Summer that old Jack Frost has sent 
you!” Then beginning to dance again they said fur- 
ther: “But we can show you something even more 
beautiful ; for we have turned the whole world into 
Fairyland!” 


io8 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


And sure enough they had, for by now everything 
was covered with their soft mantle of white, and 
everywhere old King Cold, Prince of Winter, ruled 
supreme. 

The Winter Winds suddenly remembered their 
Breezy childhood pranks, and mischievously shaking 
the window blustered through the softly-falling 
flakes: “Come, come, Lazy One, and play truant 
with us in the woods!” 

Sylvia laughed. “Oh, you rascalawags, I know 
who you are! Do you think I’m going to follow 
your mischief-beckonings out into this snow-storm? 
Well, I’m not; it’s too cold!” and she smiled back 
towards the hearth where the Flame-fairies danced. 

“But the world is Fairyland!” they urged. 

“Yes, the world is Fai-ryland!” the Snowflakes re- 
peated. “Come and see!” and they danced and beck- 
oned so merrily that Pyxie finally said: 

“Well, I just guess I’ve got to go!” And in spite 
of the Flame-fairies’ warning against the cold she 
jumped into her warmest clothes, and putting on her 
rubber boots was soon ready. 

“Blow! Blow! Away you go!” the Wind-fairies 
blustered, and running after them as they drove the 
Snowflakes merrily forward Pyxie found herself 
going towards the Laughing Brook. 

Together they all danced through the Sentinel 
Grove, wrapped in its fluffy frostiness, and Sylvia 
looked to see her fairy friends of woods and streams 
and fields jump up and welcome her just as they 


THE COMING OF THE WINTER-FAIRIES 109 


used to do; but not one single one did she see, for 
they were all fast asleep beneath the blanket of soft, 
diamond-dusted down. 

“Come, come,” the Snowflakes urged in their 
whispering voices as they danced down and kissed 
her hair, her cheeks, her eyelashes. 

“I just believe you’re trying to play a prank on me 
again,” she said to the Winter-winds; “for even if 
you are grown up you are still awfully full of mis- 
chief I” 

But without answering they beckoned her on. 

“Yes, and with these dancy, prancy Snowflakes to 
help you,” she continued, laughing up at the sprites, 
“there’s no telling what you’ll do to me, or where 
you’ll make me go! But I’ve just got to see all the 
wonderful, magical things!” And so, unable as al- 
ways to resist any summons from the really truly 
fairies, she danced on and soon found herself at the 
edge of the Laughing Brook. 

“Why, what in the world has happened?” she said, 
stopping and staring with surprise at the crystal- 
covered surface. “There isn’t a Spray-fairy in 
sight!” 

But as she looked and listened she could hear their 
laughing voices in a very, very faint chorus way 
down below the ice. 

^Whirl, Swirl, Whirl! 

Laugh and dance Little Girl! 

Come and join our merry whirl " 


no 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“But how can I ‘join your merry whirl,’ ” Pyxie 
interrupted them, “when you aren’t even here for me 
to wade in?” And she stepped from the bank onto 
the icy surface. And then, with a laugh of surprise, 
she discovered that though it looked so like beautiful 
thin glass it was quite strong enough to bear her 
whole weight! 

“Oh, what fun!” she exclaimed, and sliding out 
upon it to the Big Rock, where the Spray-fairies 
had lived, she gazed eagerly about her. “It is Fairy- 
land, sure enough,” looking at the snow-covered 
banks, where the brown reeds and grasses were now 
a fluffy white. “I just believe I’ll go on a voyage of 
discovery!” And so following the Wind and Snow- 
fairies as they beckoned, she went rapidly over the 
crystal surface of the Brook. 

On and on they led her under low-hanging boughs 
of hemlock weighted down with the snow, where 
the shadows were all purple and scarey; then out 
into the dancing, whirling Snowflakes again; until 
presently she came to a part of the Brook she had 
often seen from the woods, but which she had never 
dared explore. 

“Oh, Goody!” she said, “this deep part is all 
glassy, too, and I can walk between those tall, tall 
banks! Now I’ll find out where you come from. 
Laughing Brook! I’ve so often wanted to know!” 
So laughing and talking she ran on. 

It was very exciting, and after she had gone a far, 
far ways, farther than that time when she had met 


THE COMING OF THE WINTER-FAIRIES 1 1 1 


the Cloud-queen on the hill-top, she came to a big 
open archway in a rock directly before her, and saw 
that though the water was all frozen here, too, it 
came right out from under the archl 

“Oh, oh, I wonder what it is I” she gasped, but as 
she spoke old Mr. Sun popped out and beamed sud- 
denly down on her, and at his smile a whole host of 
Rainbow-fairies sprang from the ice and began to 
dance about her, flashing their jewels merrily. 

“Ah, Little Maid, you’ve found our Crystal home,” 
they cried in tiny bell-like tones. “Come in, come in, 
and see how we live in Winter 1” 

“But I’m on a voyage of discovery to see where 
the Laughing Brook comes from,” Sylvia answered. 

“Then come with us and we’ll show you later.” 
And so, ducking her head, Sylvia began to walk in 
under the crystal archway. 

The Winter-winds blew and howled at her as she 
disappeared, angry because they had grown so big 
that they could not follow; but only mocking them 
merrily, she entered and looked about her. 

It was all beautiful. Clustered around about 
where she had entered she saw Baby-fern and Tree- 
fairies fast sleep, while flitting just above their heads 
a host of Dream-fairies hovered, waiting to carry 
their Dreams of Summer to all the window-panes. 

“Oh, I know about you!” Sylvia laughed, “for the 
Snow-fairies told me who you were this morning,” 
and then going on still farther she saw another group 
of fairies busily engaged. 


12 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“Who are you?” she demanded, dancing up to 
them and speaking in her fairiest tones. 

Their Queen looked up silently for a rhoment be- 
fore answering, and then seeing who Pyxie really 
was, said: 

“We’re old King Cold’s jewellers, making diamond 
dust with which to spangle his robe.” And stepping 
aside she showed her a lovely little Jewel-mill, in 
which they were grinding frozen dewdrops culled 
from the summer flowers. 

“Oh, how wonderful!” Sylvia cried; “but I must 
go on exploring, for the Rainbows said they would 
show me where the Laughing Brook came from after 
I got through here. And I’m awfully anxious to 
know!” 

“Are you?” they asked. “Then go right through 
there!” and they pointed to another hole in the rock 
just ahead of where Sylvia stood. 

For a moment she hesitated. It was so very, very 
small she did not believe she could squeeze through! 
Then making herself just as near the size of a fairy as 
she possibly could, she did squeeze through, and 
found herself in the darkest, blackest, inkiest dark- 
ness she had ever known! 

“Oh-hl Oh!” she gasped in terrified alarm. 
“Where have I come?” 

“Oh-h! Oh!” a host of mocking voices gasped 
after her. “Where have I come?” 

Pyxie peered about her more and more alarmed; 
but not one single thing could she see! 


THE COMING OF THE WINTER-FAIRIES 1 13 


“Who, who — is that — talking?” she trembled in 
fright. " 

“Who, who — is that — talking?” the voices echoed. 

Scared almost out of her wits the poor child took 
what courage she had left in both hands and began 
to run! But as she did so she could hear a thousand 
feet running after her I Her heart felt as though it 
would jump right out of her body, and she slipped 
and stumbled along painfully! Then she stopped. 

“Why, it’s the Echo-fairies!” she said, laughing. 
And mocking her, they laughed too, and seemed to 
crowd nearer in the dark. 

“You little rascalawags,” she scolded; “you fright- 
ened me dreadfully! But now I won’t be scared any 
more!” 

And so she went bravely on, feeling her way most 
carefully. 

The air was cold and damp, and Jack Frost’s little 
Nipping Imps ran after her and slashed at her toes 
and fingers, but on she went until finally she heard 
a murmured song like that of the little Spray-fair- 
ies in the Brook, and felt the smoothness of the ice 
give way beneath her feet. 

“Why, I am in water,” she said, surprised. “It 
must be the Laughing Brook again!” and just as she 
spoke the most wonderful thing happened; for, turn- 
ing an angle in the wall, she saw old Mr. Sun’s full- 
beaming face shining down upon her, and saw also 
that she was in a light, round chamber with a hole in 
the top I 


114 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


“Hello, Mr. Sun, where am I?” she laughed up at 
him, and smiling down at her harder than ever he 
pointed with one of his golden ray-fingers towards 
a big rock. 

“You’re in the Crystal Palace of Winter way over 
beyond the Rainbow,” he answered. “See!” 

And looking at the rock Sylvia saw seated upon 
it the old Prince of Winter dressed in his hoary 
robes, while dancing all about him were Snowflake- 
fairies covering him with their soft caresses. 

“Your Majesty, I’m Pyxie, the Wood-fairy-girl,” 
Sylvia said, going up to the rock-throne and curtsy- 
ing just as the Snowflakes did, “and I’ve come to pay 
my homage.” 

At this old King Cold bowed his head magnifi- 
cently and would have spoken, but just then little old 
Jack Frost, the Court Jester, danced up in impish 
mockery and said : 

“She has done nothing of the sort, your Coldness,” 
bowing just as she had done, “it is woman’s curiosity 
that has brought her here. She’s looking for the 
home of the Laughing Brook! Ha! Ha!” and he 
laughed at Sylvia’s evident confusion. 

Then Sylvia heard another voice say: “Let not 
the Imp’s biting words tease you. Little Maid. It is 
natural and right that little children should know 
the source of everything beautiful. Here, stoop 
down and look! The Brook’s brithplace is under this 
rock, and I’m the Mother Spring that bore it!” And 
bubbling up, a lovely crystal stream of water flowed 


THE COMING OF THE WINTER-FAIRIES 1 1 5 


past Sylvia’s feet, and then in icy-coated splendour 
went singing towards the woods and fields. 

“Oh, how lovely I” Pyxie exclaimed, beginning to 
dance up and down. “I think I’ll ” 

But hearing a noise very foreign to the fairy scene 
in which she stood, she broke off in the middle of her 
sentence and looked up to see Tommy and Willie 
looking down at her through the hole in the cham- 
ber’s roof. Their faces were incredulous as they 
stared at her, until finally breaking the silence she 
said: 

“Isn’t it beautiful, this Palace of Winter?” 

Tommy sniffed. “Palace nothing! It’s our Rob- 
ber’s Hole, and you come out! We don’t allow girls. 
How did you get down, anyway? We’ve been play- 
ing right here and didn’t see you!” 

“I followed the Winter-winds and Snow-fairies up 
the Laughing Brook,” Sylvia replied. 

“Oh, shucks, you couldn’t have!” Tommy contra- 
dicted; but Willie, his eyes round with excitement, 
leaned far over the edge and said: 

“Here, Sylvia, take my hand and pull yourself up! 
You’ve discovered a cave if you did that! I’ve always 
thought this was one, but never could find out! Any- 
body that’s as smart as you are can play Indian with 
me, all right, all right, whether they are a girl or 
not!” And he made a face at Tommy. 

So very soon Pyxie was standing outside the cave, 
the Sunbeams kissing her rumpled curls, while she 
told both boys all about her wonderful adventure. 


ii6 


REALLY TRULY FAIRY STORIES 


Since then Tommy, as well as Willie, often asks 
her to play with them in the Sentinel Grove; but 
having once learned the secret of true happiness 
from the fairies of woods and stream and fields she 
loves best to play with her friends, the Really Truly 
Fairies, and learn more and more of their beautiful 
secrets. 




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